


a 














BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


Modern Japan: Its Political, 
Military, and Industrial Or- 
ganisation 


Colloquial Japanese 


Introduction to Mahayana 
Buddhism 


Manual of Buddhist Philosophy 





TO LHASA 
IN DISGUISE 








DR. WILLIAM MONTGOMERY 





MCGOVERN 


ST, 


TO LHASA IN 
DISGUISE 


AN ACCOUNT OF A SECRET EXPEDITION 
THROUGH MYSTERIOUS TIBET 


‘ BY 
Wm. MONTGOMERY McGOVERN 
Pu.D. (Oxon.) 


FORMERLY LECTURER IN CHINESE AND JAPANESE, SCHOOL OF ORIENTAL 
: STUDIES, UNIV. OF LONDON 





THORNTON BUTTERWORTH, LTD. 
15 BEDFORD STREET, LONDON 


First Published - - ° - - 1924 
Second Impression . - November, 1924 


MADE AND PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN 


All rights reserved 


DEDICATION | 
TO WILLIAM DEDERICH, ESQ. 


DEAR Mr. DEDERICH,— 


It would seem to me quite wrong that this book should 
go out without being dedicated to you, for not only were you 
the kindly patron through whose unfailing support and co- 
operation the whole journey through Tibet was made possible, 
but it is entirely owing to your insistence that the present book 
has been written. 

I had intended to write a somewhat technical volume dealing 
with the scientific results of my journey through Tibet, with 
special reference to anthropology, both physical and social, 
omitting all matters of merely personal reference, but you have 
persuaded me that you, and perhaps some others, would be 
_ interested in reading a plain account of some of the personal 
experiences which my secret expedition to Tibet entailed. 

It certainly was interesting to be forced to see Tibet, and 
the Tibetans, from the Tibetan point of view, to live as a 
Tibetan for months when a false word or act would have given 
me away; to be forced to study their quaint customs, not 
merely from a dry, dull, scientific standpoint, but also that I 
might journey amongst them without being detected, and so 
I have given way to your arguments and, departing from my 
custom with previous books, have tried to describe some of 
the varied experiences which I encountered during my secret 
expedition to the Sacred City. 

I have, therefore, put off to a subsequent volume discussion 
of the more technical side of my exploration work, detailed 
notes on the physical geography of the country, and the 
comparative anatomical measurements which I made with the 
view of ascertaining the exact racial position of the people. 


7 


8 DEDICATION 


In the same way I have postponed detailed treatment of the 
minute points of Tibetan Buddhist philosophy—a subject which 
greatly interested me—and have tried to make the present 
volume one which can be read with interest and enjoyment 
and not merely be used as a book of reference. 

At the same time I have tried to include in this work some- 
thing which would make it of more lasting worth, numerous 
notes of personal observation of various aspects of the country 
and of the people. I have tried to weave through the record a 
general but accurate description of manners and customs and 
beliefs, including some of the extraordinary institutions which 
exist in the government of Lhasa. 

Finally, I have tried to give an adequate description of the 
great transformation which has taken place in Tibet during the 
last few years, so that I hope it can beclaimed that my book gives 
to the general public its first exact information concerning the 
present diplomatic, political, military, and industrial situation 
in a country which occupies such an important strategic centre 
that it is of interest to all students of Asiatic and world affairs. 

This work is sent out in all true humility. I make no 
pretence to style or to fine writing, but if you and others can 
get any pleasure from reading of adventures which took place, 
and observations which were made on ‘‘ The Roof of the World,” 
I shall feel more than repaid for all the trouble which the~ 
writing of this book has entailed. 

You and I both know how much I am indebted to Mr. TB. 
Pryde-Hughes for his constant and efficient help in the 
preparation of the book. 

Wm. MonTGOMERY MCGOVERN. 


CHAPTER 
I 


II 


CONTENTS 


TIBET AND THE TIBETANS . 
THE FIRST ATTEMPT . . 


- BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 


ON THE TRADE-ROUTE ° 


GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST. 


PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 


FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER . 


' TRAPPED IN THE PASSES . 


*“ VICTORY TO THE GODS!” 
THE DISGUISE TESTED ; 
PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT . 
LIFE ON THE PLAINS . ; 
ON TO SHIGATSE : : 
THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 
SHIGATSE ONWARD . ; 
ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA . 
GOSSIP AND CUSTOMS. ‘ 
INTO THE LION’S MOUTH . 
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET . 
THE GOAL IN SIGHT . : 
EXPOSED! iy. : , 
9 


e 


IIo 
II5 
130 
144 
163 
176 
199 
215 
223 
238 
254 
262 


IO 


CHAPTER 
XXII 


XXIII 
XXIV 
XXV 


CONTENTS 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 
BEFORE THE CITY MAGISTRATES . 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA 


MODERNISING LHASA . 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


= 


. Dr. William Montgomery McGovern, .. : . Froniusprece 


FACING PAGE 


The Oracle of Tibet ‘ ‘ < 
The Oracle as he is normally, with his Servants . 
Gyangtsé: The Golden Chorten (Pagoda) . 


“Satan ’’—Dr. McGovern’s harebrained Tibetan Secretary . 


The Road to Gyangtsé 
Gyangtsé, the Third City of Tibet 
Monks at Prayer inside a Tibetan Cathedral 
~The Trashi Lama 
Procession with the Palanquin of the Trashi Lama 
Tibetan Aristocrats ; Mother and Daughter 
A Tibetan Princess in Gala Dress : ‘ 
A Religious Dance by Lamas in a Tibetan Monastery . 
Tibetan Lama Dancers in Masks 
A Tibetan Lama Orchestra 
Tibetan Noblemen : ‘ 
The Monastery of Drépung, near Lhasa. 
Lhasa: The Potala, the Palace of the Dalai Lama 
One of the Main Streets in Lhasa 
Tsarong Shapé, Commander-in-Chief of the New ral 


Pe 


44 

44 

54 

58 
120 
120 
166 
180 
180 
184 
184 
196 
196 
220 
220 
250 
256 
268 
290 


12 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING PAGE 


Effigy of a Dead Abbot in a Tibetan Cathedral . ; - 298 
A Tibetan Divinity ONC NE SOS 
His Holiness the Dalai Lama . i . ‘ P ~ 306 


MAPS IN TEXT 


Maps of Asia showing Tibet . . : . . ‘ 19 
Dr. McGovern’s route to Lhasa : : , ; ‘ 61 
Dr. McGovern’s route through Sikkim ‘ . : ‘ 81 
Sectional Map showing Ringpo and the Rong River . en. Bee 


TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


CHAPTER I 


> 


TIBET AND THE TIBETANS 


For many years Tibet has been the mysterious unknown 
country, and Lhasa, its capital, the Forbidden City of the 
Buddhas, into which entrance by adventurous explorers was 
sought in vain. 

Both nature and the bvhabitants have co-operated to make 
entry into the country well nigh impossible. A huge table- 
land, whose average altitude is 15,000 feet above sea-level, 
as high as the summit of Mont Blanc, the highest peak of 
Europe, it is surrounded and intersected by even greater 
mountains, many of them over 20,000 feet high, shrouded in 
perpetual ice and snow. 

Tibet has an area of over one million square miles, but 
though it-lies between the two fertile countries of India and 
China, so bleak and so cold is it that nearly the whole land is 
a desert devoid of trees and plants, producing only patches of 
sparse grass which serve to support the deer, the wild ass, the 
yak, and herds of cattle and sheep. Barley, a hardy plant, is 
the one cereal grown, and even this flourishes only in the 
milder parts ; but hidden within the ample bosom of this arid 
land are vast, and almost untouched, stores of natural mineral 
wealth, 

Scattered over this huge territory are groups of natives 
fiercely jealous of every intruder. Many of them are nomads 
moving here and there with their flocks. Others form com- 
munities dwelling in settled villages. Nearer the larger towns, 
perched on high hills or precipitous cliffs, are to be found 


13 


T4 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


gigantic stone castles, of quaint old-world design, which frown 
upon the countryside. 

Even more’ numerous than the castles are the monasteries, 
for Tibet is the country of monks. One man out of every four 
is a priest, and such persons dwell together in vast buildings 
placed far away from other habitation. But such institutions, 
instead of being havens of peace, are the centres of turmoil. 
Many of their inhabitants become what are known as fighting 
monks and spend their time in brawling. 

Wild, reckless men they are. Sometimes one monastery 
will wage war against another, and sometimes these ecclesi- 
astical swashbucklers will pour into the towns, and seize and 
hack to pieces some unpopular governor. The monasteries, 
having hundreds, and in some cases thousands, of inhabitants, 
overawe the districts in which they are placed. . 

It is the monks who are fiercest in hatred of outsiders ; it is 
they who present the greatest danger to the would-be explorer 
of the inhabited portion of Tibet, for in their foreigner-hating 
zeal they are apt to ignore any safe-conduct which might be 
granted by the civil authorities to a stranger. 

In the very heart of this gloomy land is the sacred city of 
Lhasa. Here lives the Dalai Lama, who is both the Emperor 
and the High Priest of his people, who regard him as an incar- 
nate god. In his magnificent palace, the Potala, he dwelle on-~ 
public occasions surrounded with all the pomp that befits 
a living deity, and receives in audience the pilgrims who 
come from every part of Tibet to bring rich offerings and 
to adore. 

He who would seek to penetrate into Lhasa must first over- 
come the tremendous physical difficulties which bar the way 
to the threshold of Tibet, and even if he rise victorious over 
ice and snow, gnarled crag and precipitous cliff, he finds upon 
arrival on the plateau an angry populace Noses bars the way 
and insists on an immediate return. 

In the old days various well-known explorers tried, by means 
of devious routes and various disguises, to escape being turned 
back at the frontier, and some, indeed, succeeded in passing 
far into the interior, but only to find that sooner or later, before 
reaching Lhasa, the abode of the Gods, that they were detected 
and further progress barred. Among the most noteworthy of 


a 


TIBET AND THE TIBETANS 15 


these explorers were the Swede, Sven Hedin, and the illustrious 
American scholar, W. W. Rockhill. 

In the last few years a few have been more fortunate. Sir 
Francis Younghusband, Sir Charles Bell, and General Pereira, 
for example, penetrating to the goal, have been able to throw 
a great deal of light upon many hitherto unknown aspects of 
Central Tibetan life. The Younghusband military expedition 
of 1904 to Tibet, particularly, was destined to alter greatly the 
internal history of the country. But in each case the torchlight 
which illuminated for a moment the Tibetan darkness has been 
extinguished, and once again and, in fact, more than ever is 
Tibet the mysterious unknown country and Lhasa_ the 
_ Forbidden City of the Buddhas. 

In recent years both country and capital have become more 
particularly worthy of study, owing to the curious developments 


which have taken place there. While retaining the glamour of 


mystery which belongs to a country ruled by monks, many of 
whom are worshipped as gods, a country which shuts the door 
on all intruders from without, it is now worthy of the interest 
of the student of diplomacy, politics, and economics. 

We are all aware of the extraordinary transformation which 
Japan underwent during the course of the latter part of the last 
century, when from a quaint kingdom of fable, closed to the 
outside world, it became a first-class modern power, with all 
- the equipment and organization of the West. 

A similar transforming movement is now taking place in 
Tibet—a movement which may have an important influence 
upon the political future of Eastern Asia. Until 1912 Tibet 
was a vassal of China, without a standing army or adequate 
munitions of war. To-day the Chinese have been expelled, 
and Tibet stands alone and independent. She has a new army, 
an army ever growing in numbers, well drilled, well disciplined, 
and armed with rifles, either imported from Europe or made 
in the Lhasa arsenal. Regular postal communications have 
been opened between the principal towns, and Lhasa itself is 
possessed of telephone and telegraph, quaint and crude to be 
sure, but workable; and that last instance of modern 
European culture, paper money, is now being printed. 

_ The government has also undergone considerable develop- 
ment. The Dalai Lama, the Supreme Pontiff of Tibetan 


16 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Buddhism, is now in fact, as his predecessors were in name, 
the absolute ruler of the country. Tibet has long been 
possessed of t\vo curious bodies, a council of shapés or secre- 
taries of state, constituting a cabinet, and a Tsongdu, or 
National Assembly, the Tibetan Parliament or Congress; but 
in the last decade both these bodies have undergone an interest- 
ing evolution, making them correspond more closely to their 
European counterparts, and even in distant Tibet constitutional 
crises are by no means unknown. What is most curious is 
that these modern movements seem to have had no effect in 
rendering Tibet less exclusive—in fact, in some ways the ring 
grows tighter. In previous years the Chinese at least were 
admitted to Lhasa, and now even these are excluded. The 
new institutions, such as the post and the telegraph, are 
employed as the most efficient means of keeping the European 
intruder out, as in this way constant communication between 
the frontier and the capital is ensured. 

To the adventurer and the explorer, therefore, Tibet at the 
present moment presents a fascinating field of research. In 
my own case I was equally interested by Tibet as the luring 
past, and as the womb of the unborn to-morrow. As an 
anthropologist I became fascinated by the Tibetan people, 
with their customs, their language, their religion, and their 
literature. All of these are in some way unique. As one 
who had studied some of the modern developments in diplo- ~ 
macy and statecraft in the other countries of the East, I was 
anxious to study the changing institutions of this hidden, 
theocratic empire, and to see what effect these developments 
might have upon the relations of the surrounding peoples. 

In bygone years I had devoted much time to a theoretical 
study of the Tibetan language and customs, in the hope that 
this would the better enable me to carry on exploration at first 
hand. But it was my privilege to utilize this stored-up 
knowledge and to continue my studies under very peculiar 
conditions. Circumstances forced me to cross an 18,000-feet 
pass into Tibet in mid-winter, at a time when it was blocked 
with snow and supposedly closed to all travellers, even natives. 
Arrived in Tibet, I had necessarily to disguise myself as a 
Tibetan coolie, and to travel as such through the heart of the 
country. During the latter part of this secret journey the 


TIBET AND THE TIBETANS 17 


Tibetan Government learned of my escapade and ordered a 
sharp watch to be kept for me at all the villages., The caravan 
with which I was travelling, in the humble capacity of servant, 
was several times stopped and examined without my being 
discovered. 

At last I arrived in Lhasa. Here I was foolish enough to 
reveal myself voluntarily to the authorities, with the result 
that the monks in Lhasa led a popular riot against me, and the 
civil Government, in an attempt to protect my person, was 
forced to declare me a prisoner of state until the popular 
clamour had subsided. 

After a six weeks’ stay in Lhasa, I was permitted to return 
to India, an escort being given me in order to ensure my safety. 
In this way my adventure came to an end, but in the mean- 
time I had been able to secure numerous priceless manuscripts, 
had met or seen all the principal persons in the sacred city, and 
had had unequalled opportunities for studying the inner life 
of the Tibetan people and the working of their institutions. 


CHAPTER II 
THE FIRST ATTEMPT 


THE journey which was destined to have this adventurous 
end started in a much more conventional fashion. It was, in 
fact, but the sequel to an earlier open expedition by a party, 
consisting of five Europeans engaged on scientific research, 
which penetrated one hundred and fifty miles inside the Tibetan 
frontier, and managed to acquire a great deal of scientific 
material before it was stopped and turned back by the order of 
the Tibetan authorities. It was only through this expedition, 
of which I was a member, that I gained the necessary experi- 
ence and information to enable me to carry out my journey in 
disguise, so that it is necessary in the first place to give a short 
account of this first attempt to reach the Forbidden City. 

In r92r Mr. George Knight, F.R.G.S., conceived the idea of 
organizing a research mission to Tibet to carry out a thorough 
survey of the country and the people. 

It was first of all necessary to get in touch with someone 
who was in a position to organize and finance such an expedi- 
tion. After several disheartening failures to secure such 
support, Mr. Knight obtained the hearty co-operation of Mr. 
William Dederich, F.R.G.S., who was a friend of the late Sir 
Ernest Shackleton, and who had rendered that great explorer 
practical help in the organization of Shackleton’s 1914 
Antarctic expedition. Mr. Dederich is not only a generous 
patron of scientific exploration, but a man whose administra- 
tive ability renders him of great assistance to an expedition 
faced with the complicated problems of equipment and organiza- 
tion. By his aid the idea was soon placed on a stable basis 
and active steps could be taken towards sending out the explor- 
ing party. 

18 


THE FIRST ATTEMPT 19 


At first the personnel of the new expedition consisted of four 
persons, viz. Mr. G. Knight, the leader, who was also to look 
after botanical and zoological research ; Captain J. E. Ellam, 
the co-leader, who was to devote himself to the study of the 
political and religious institutions of the country; Mr. 
Frederic Fletcher, who was to act as geologist and also trans- 
port officer to the party; and finally Mr. William Harcourt, 
who was appointed cinematographer, for it was realized that 
in modern times a living pictorial record of the land and 


baud 
INDIAN OCEAN 





the people should be an a a part of every scientific 
expedition. 

At a somewhat later period—in fact, only a short time before 
the date fixed for departure—I was asked to join the mission 
as general adviser, as it was thought that my previous residence 
in the Orient and my knowledge of the Tibetan language and 
customs might prove useful. Through the kindness of Sir 


20 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


E. Denison Ross I was able to secure leave of absence from my 
University, and was thus enabled to accept the invitation. 
We had then to decide upon the direction by which Tibet 
was to be entered. Three places at once suggested themselves. 
One was to advance from the east through China. Another 
was to go from the west through Kashmir and Northern India. 
The third was to start from Darjeeling, and to pass through the 
small semi-independent state of Sikkim, which lies between the 
larger countries of Nepal and Bhutan, and over the Himalayas 
into Tibet proper. ‘ 
This last was the route eventually selected, because it would 
bring the expedition into immediate contact with the central 


portion of Tibet and with its two great cities, Shigatsé and . 


Lhasa. This route was the more preferable because, as a 
result of the Younghusband expedition, the Indian Govern- 
ment had secured the right to send certain specially-selected 
persons to two places inside of Tibet itself. The first of these 
places was the town of Yatung in the Chumbi Valley, just 
inside the Tibetan frontier. The other was the city of 
Gyangtsé, a hundred and fifty miles in the interior. Persons 
permitted to travel to either place were required to go in a 
direct line, without deviating in any way from the main trade- 
route. 

The India Office and the Government of India were 
approached on the subject, and after some negotiation gave 
us the necessary permission to travel to Gyangtsé, there to 
apply to the Tibetan Government for further permission to 
proceed to Lhasa and other portions of the interior, but refused 
to give us any further support or recognition. 

In July 1922 the party set sail for India. It was found 
impossible for all the members to go out together, so it was 
agreed to make Darjeeling our rendezvous. Fletcher and 
Harcourt, however, accompanied me on the s.s. Nellore, and 
after touching at Malta, Port Said, Colombo, and Madras, we 
arrived at Calcutta in the middle of August. It was then, of 
course, the height of the Indian summer, and on many occasions 
the thermomete1 registered 110° in the shade. 

I have always had a fondness for tropical heat, but my 
companions suffered so much from it that, after collecting the 
boxes which had been sent out from England and making 


THE FIRST. ATTEMPT 21 


a number of further purchases necessary for camp life in Tibet, 
we went by rail to Darjeeling, where before long the whole of 
our party assembled. 

Darjeeling lies on an outer spur of the great Himalayan 
range. It is over 7,000 feet above sea-level, and even in 
summer is delightfully cool. For this reason it was made 
the summer capital of the province of Bengal: Calcutta, of 
course, being the winter capital. The chief objection to 
Darjeeling is its great rainfall, most of which occurs during 
thé summer months, which is the period of the rainy season 
all over India. » 

Sixty years ago Darjeeling (properly Dorjeling—the Temple 
of the Thunderbolt!) consisted of an insignificant village, 
forming part of the territory seized by the British Indian 
Government from the little independent hill state of Sikkim 
by way of reparations. Reparations in those days seem 
to have been a matter more easily and quickly settled 
than now! 

Darjeeling. has had a very rapid development and is now 
a flourishing city. A large portion of the land seized along 
with Darjeeling, land which is known as British Sikkim, is laid 
out in tea plantations, supervised by Europeans, who use 
Darjeeling as their supply base and frequently ride in for dances 
and other festivities: their club, the Planters’ Club, is a very 
important institution. 

Apart from these, the resident European population is very 
small. The more important officials of the Bengal Government 
have villas scattered along the hillsides, but these are occupied 
chiefly in summer, at which time the hotels and boarding- 
houses are also packed with visitors. The native population 
is much larger and is more permanent. 

The great Darjeeling market-square is the famous meeting- 
place for people of every race and caste. There is a substratum 
of the old Sikkimese population. Sikkimese are really Tibetans 
who, in comparatively modern times, have migrated and 
settled south of the Himalayas. They have kept the appear- 
ance, the language, and the religion of their Tibetan ancestors, 
and for their benefit there are three Lama (Tibetan Buddhist) 
monasteries in the neighbourhood of the city. In recent years 
numerous settlers have arrived from the Indian plains. These, 


22 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


of course, are either Hindus or Mohammedans, and for their 
benefit there have been erected a Hindu temple and a mosque 
in the heart of the city. 

An even larger number of people come from without the 
bounds of British India. These include immigrants from the 
still independent parts of Sikkim, and from Bhutan, Nepal, and 
Tibet. Tibetans are to be seen all over the town and attract 
a good deal of attention from the tourists. Many of them have 
brought down curios from their native lands which are sold at 
enormous profit to European visitors. ‘ 

Our party stayed for some three weeks at the Labyrinth, a 
small residential hotel, and it required all of this time to com- 
plete our preparations. Knight and the other members of the 
expedition frequently visited the market-place in order to secure 
those supplies which had not been procured in either England 
or Calcutta. 

I, for the most part, was engaged in “ going native,’’ spending 
long hours with the Sikkimese and Tibetans who are resident 
in Darjeeling. A number of the Tibetans were lamas, or priests, 
who had come down to India to go on pilgrimages to the holy 
places of Buddhism. Buddhism has long died out in India 
which is, however, frequently visited by Buddhists of other 
lands, who love to walk in the footsteps of their Master, dead 
these two thousand five hundred years. 

These long conversations served both to practise my Tibetan 
colloquial language, and also to add to our scanty stock of 
information about the conditions existing in the Forbidden 
Land. The good manageress of our hotel, a dear, stout old 
Scotch lady of strict Presbyterian doctrine, with singular views 

n “ the heathen,” often lifted her hands in horror when she 
saw my private sitting-room crowded with weird pilgrims who 
had come from north of the Passes, with the odour of the 
mountains still strong upon them. 

The Umdze, or Dean, of one of the local Sildsimnese temples 
was one of the most frequent of my visitors, and as he had 
already been to Shigatsé and to Lhasa, the goals of our journey, 
and therefore knew the way, I at length engaged him as my 
secretary, and procured for him leave of absence from his 
temple so that he might come with us. It is considered very 
impolite in Tibet to call a man by his name when he possesses 


THE FIRST ATTEMPT ‘ 23 


a title of any sort, so he should have been called Umdze- 
la (‘‘la,” lit. “lags,” being a term of respect which may 
mean either Mr., Mrs., Miss, or Master). But this was too 
much of a mouthful for our party. So they christened 
him ‘“ Toby,” and ‘aide to the end of the journey he 
remained. 

One of the most useful of our informants in Darjeeling 
was Laden La (lit. ‘legs, Idan lags”), a very well-known 
character in this part of the world. The son of an insig- 
nificant Sikkimese landowner, he entered the police force 
while a boy, became a police sergeant, and eventually was 
given a commission as captain, and became deputy. and 
acting superintendent of police. Shortly after our arrival 
in India he was made an honorary A.D.C. to Lord Lytton, 
the Governor of Bengal, a unique honour for a native. 
His unofficial position, however, is even greater, and we 
found him the uncrowned king of the whole Darjeeling 


district. 
as sk we * * 


It is almost entirely at his order that Darjeeling remained 
nearly free from the Gandhi movement that swept over 
the whole of India. 


* % * x oe 


Fortune has brought him into very close touch with the 
highest Tibetan officials. The two great potentates of 
Tibet, the Trashi Lama of Shigatsé and the Dalai Lama 
of Lhasa, have both made visits to India, and in both 
cases Laden La was lent to them by the Indian Govern- 
ment to act as a guide and guard. As a result of this 
Laden was made an honorary chamberlain of the Dalai 
Lama’s Court, and was given the rank of Depén, or 
General, in the new Tibetan army, and a few months after 
my return from Tibet he was actually called to Lhasa to 
organize, for the Dalai Lama, a police force for the capital. 

We found him an exceedingly acute and able man, and 
so soon as he was good enough to grant us his favour 
we found things mysteriously expedited, for not only did 
he give us letters of introduction to various people in 


24 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Tibet, but he enabled us to secure able and faithful 
servants. ; : 

We had next to arrange for our transport. Wheeled traffic 
of any sort was of course impossible over the passes, and is 
unknown anywhere in Tibet. For ourselves and our bearers 
we secured ponies, and for the major portion of our transport, 
mules. We intended to keep to the great high-roads even after 
entering Tibet. Along these high-roads it is always possible 
to hire animals, and as this was cheaper and less trouble- 
some, we decided against purchasing any horses, particularly 
as any animals we might purchase in Darjeeling would be 
unfit for use on the high plateau of Tibet. For the first 
part of our journey riding-ponies were to cost us five 
rupees, and transport mules three rupees, a day. 

We were now in a position to start on our journey. In any 
case we should have to pass through the semi-independent state 
of Sikkim on our way to Tibet, but it was decided that our 
main party should take the short-cut which lay through the 
south-east of this little country, while I was to start a few days 
earlier and make a detour in order to visit the Maharaja, or 
King, of Sikkim, at his capital of Gantok, rejoining the main 
party at Yatung, just inside of the Tibetan borders. 

I was anxious to start on September 5, but this was an 
unlucky day, according to Tibetan calculations, and Toby 
insisted that I wait until the next day, which was more 
auspicious. The Tibetans are grossly superstitious, and 
arrange all their affairs with reference to lucky and unlucky 
days. These are calculated both with reference to the days of 
the month and also the days of the week. Thus, for example, 
Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays are bad days on which 
to start some new undertaking, while Mondays, Wednesdays, 
and Sundays are considered fortunate. The ninth, thirteenth, 
nineteenth, and twenty-ninth days of the month are considered 
of particularly good omen, and Toby pleaded that we postpone 
our departure until the nineteenth and also a Sunday, doubly 
favourable. He seemed very much surprised that I refused 
to sacrifice two weeks in order to start things properly. At 
last he consented to come on the sixth, a Wednesday, provided 
that we started at nine o’clock, which the calendar declared 
to be an opportune hour. 


THE FIRST ATTEMPT 25 


In case urgent business makes it necessary for a Tibetan 
to start a journey on an unlucky day, he will, on some 
preceding lucky day, have a hat or some other article of 
clothing sent on ahead a mile or two on the road, because 
it is thought that in this way the gods can be beguiled 
into believing that the man himself started on the correct 
occasion. 

I was told a good tale of a Tibetan who took a long journey 
with his wife. He so arranged the matter that he arrived at 
and left each town en route on a lucky day. While still on the 
journey the poor wife died (was this part of the good luck ?) 
and the delay caused by this event upset the whole schedule, 
. so that the man was held up for several weeks at a little village 
waiting for the next series of auspicious dates to come round 
again. 

On the sixth a special service was held in Toby’s monastery 
at daybreak, and at his earnest invitation I attended this cere- 
mony in order to receive the special blessing of the abbot. 
Armed with this blessing, I returned and made the final 
preparations for the departure at the fateful hour of nine. 
This took place without mishap. Toby, Lhaten, my 
bearer or personal servant, and I trotted away on our 
ponies, and we were followed by two coolies on foot who 
carried the baggage, for I was travelling light and required 
no mules. 

At first the way lay through the damp, hot, luxuriant forest 
which characterizes the southern slopes of the Himalayas, 
conditions in such marked contrast to the bare, treeless, arid, 
lifeless plateau of Tibet, which lies just north of that magnifi- 
cent range of mountains. 

From the Tibetan point of view our start may have been very 
propitious, but personally I considered it very unfavourable, 
for after we had gone a mile or two it began to rain, and in fact 
continued to pour down for the rest of the day. This very 
much hindered our progress, and we had to stop at the little 
village of Peshok. The next day we continued on our way. 
An important milestone was reached when we came to the 
Tista River. It is spanned by an imposing-looking bridge, 
_ but one which is really ramshackle and unsafe. There is a 
cart-road which goes as far as Kalimpong and Gantok. but 


26 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


when the carts reach this bridge they have to be taken apart 
and hauled over. Here I was instructed by Toby on two 
important points of Tibetan etiquette. He would not 
allow me to ride over the bridge, but insisted that I get off 
my pony and walk across as a sign of reverence to the 
gods of Tibet. 

In the middle of the bridge we found a . number of paper 
prayers fluttering in the breeze. Toby brought out three such 
printed prayers which he had carried with him, and tied them 
on to the others, and at the same time he threw a couple of 
copper coins into the river as an offering to the deities which 
dwell therein. This last is an important custom which the 
Tibetans share with the ancient Romans. : 

We next ascended a long slope, and found ourselves in the 
afternoon in the town of Kalimpong. This is the last outpost 
of the British-Indian Government and an important city of 
trade. It has been called the Harbour of Tibet, for while 
neither European nor Indian trader is allowed in the heart of 
the Forbidden Land, the Tibetans are free to come down to 
India and sell their goods—chiefly wool—and take back with 
them cheap knick-knacks for sale in the markets of Shigatsé 
and Lhasa. Kalimpong serves as the meeting-ground for 
Indian and Tibetan traders just arriving or returning to Lhasa, 
the secret city, so that to see the caravan leaders coming in 
from the north was like having communication with another, 
unseen, half-fanciful world. 

In order to promote trade, the local authorities organize 
various fairs in Kalimpong, which are attended by hordes of 
people of all races, chiefly Bhutanese, Sikkimese, and Tibetans, 
and the anthropologist has only to go to Kalimpong to find 
abundant material for the study of types. 

Kalimpong differs from Darjeeling in many ways. In the 
first place, Kalimpong is part of the territory seized not from 
Sikkim, but from Bhutan, and is, therefore, the centre of 
the district known as British Bhutan. It is some 2,000 feet 
lower than Darjeeling (being 5,000 feet above sea-level), but 
has the advantage of being much less damp than the latter 
city. 

The social distinction between the two towns is even greater. 
Darjeeling is essentially an official post, and therefore the 


THE FIRST ATTEMPT 24 


missionaries play a very minor and subdued part even in the 
social life of the place. In Kalimpong, on the other hand, 
things are very different. Here the missionaries reign supreme. 
All the important buildings belong to the Scotch Presbyterian 
Mission, which also owns large tracts of land in the district. 
The senior missionaries form the local aristocracy, overawing 
even the British—Indian officials, and Dr. Graham, the head of 
the Mission, is the uncrowned king of Kalimpong, the arbiter 
and dispenser of justice even to those not inside the Christian 
fold. Dr. Graham has won this unique position largely as a 
result of his forceful, and tactful, personality, for from the 
purely missionary point of view the Tibetan peoples form a 
. singularly unpromising field and very few converts have 
been won. 

Considering this and one facts, it is curious that the 
Tibetans prefer Kalimpong to Darjeeling as the base of 
their communications. with India, but certainly the fact is 
undisputed, and there is, therefore, good reason to suppose 
that Kalimpong will gradually rise and Darjeeling STRUOAUE 
sink in importance. — 

From Kalimpong the caravan-road leads on direct to the 
Jelap Pass and the Chumbi Valley in Tibet. This was the road 
destined to be followed by my main party, but in order to visit 
Gantok, I had the next day to descend once more to the Tista 
Valley and follow for many miles the course of the Tista River. 
In the afternoon we reached the frontier of Sikkim. We were 
stopped by some Sikkimese frontier police and had to show 
our passes permitting us to enter the country. 

For many years the British Government has had diplomatic 
relations with Nepal and Bhutan, but both these countries have 
maintained their independence. Sikkim, on the other hand, 
though also nominally independent, has come much more 
closely under British influence and control. The Maharaja of 
Sikkim recognizes the nominal suzerainty of the Emperor of 
India. An English Political Officer is resident in Gantok, the 
capital, and wields a great deal of influence; but Sikkim, in 
common with other so-called native states, is still entirely 
autonomous on nearly all local and internal matters, possessing 
her own laws and courts of justice, her own ministers and council 
of state, her own system of taxation, and her own defence force ; 


28 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


and no European can pass within her borders unless armed with 
a special official pass. 

I noticed, however, that the gendarmes, or soldier-police, 
who demanded our passes were Nepalese who, though in the 
pay of the Sikkimese Government, could not even speak the 
Sikkimese language. 

Soon after crossing the frontier it began to rain very heavily, 
so we halted for the night at the village of Rangpo, situated 
in the heart of the warm, moist Tista Valley. This part of 
Sikkim has an infamous reputation for malaria and other 
tropical fevers, so we took great care to boil our water and to 
wrap ourselves up in mosquito-nets, for the air was black bscsats: 
germ-carrying insects. 

The next day we continued on the Gantok road, and hated © 
at another little Sikkimese village that evening. On the way 
we stopped to rest for a few minutes from time to time, and on 
these occasions we began to be troubled with leeches. These 
horrible bloodsucking little creatures were hidden in the under- 
growth, but they must have smelt our presence, for as soon as 
we stopped they began coming towards us with great rapidity 
in their curious form of locomotion. Although they look like 
black earthworms, instead of gliding along the ground in snake- 
like fashion, they rise on their tails until they are absolutely 
perpendicular, then, arching their heads down to the ground, 
bring their tails up to their heads. They thus measure their» 
distance along the ground. It is really comic to see these tiny 
creatures, without legs, walking along a path, the head and 
tail taking the place of legs. 

In spite of my vigilance, two or three attached themselves 
to my body and began thirstily sucking blood. I wanted to 
tear them off, but my bearer Lhaten would not allow me to 
do this, as the flesh comes off with them leaving a nasty 
wound which refuses to heal for many days thereafter. In 
accordance with his instructions, therefore, I had to allow the 
creatures to continue their ghastly work until he prepared a 
little bag filled with salt, and, dipping this in water, let the brine 
trickle down on to the leeches. This had a magical effect. 
The loathsome creatures shrivelled away into seeming nothing- 
ness, leaving only a little clot of blood which we easily wiped 
away. 


THE FIRST ATTEMPT 29 


We found the road surprisingly good, but our day’s destination 
proved to be an insignificant little village. We stayed here in 
comfort at the little Government rest-house, fitted out in an 
entirely European style. Official rest-houses are scattered all 
over the inhabited part of Sikkim. 


CHAPTER III 
BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM ‘ 


WHEN the Indian Government carried through one of its 
punitive expeditions against Sikkim, it forced the Maharaja’s : 
Government to undertake to construct, and to keep under 
repair, a number of high-roads throughout the country in 
place of the casual tracks which were hitherto to be found, and 
also to erect a number of these official rest-houses. All the 
people of Sikkim benefit from the roads, but for the most part 
gain nothing from the rest-houses, for although the Maharaja 
himself and one or two of the higher members of his Court are 
permitted to use them, they have been erected chiefly for the 
benefit of the British Political Officer and his staff, and also 
for other European travellers who are given permits from the 
Government. This rest-house (or dak-bungalows) system 
forms part of the general policy of the Indian Government, 
which has forced a number of rulers of other native states 
to erect similar institutions. 

These dak-bungalows are really dainty little villas, with a 
sitting-room, two or three bedrooms, and outhouses for the use 
of the traveller’s servants, and animals. They are quite nicely 
furnished though, in accordance with Anglo-Indian custom, 
every traveller brings his own bedclothes, and also a retinue of 
servants who cook for and serve him, as each rest-house has 
only a chowkidar, or caretaker, in attendance. Supplies must 
be procured by one’s own servants in one of the local bazaars. 

Early the next morning we continued our journey. We had 
for some time a level road, and so I tried to get my pony to 
canter, but found that these hill-ponies have only one pace, 
viz.,an amble, something between a fast walk and a trot, and 
nothing will induce them to break into either a real trot or a 


80 


BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 31 


gallop. They are able to keep up their amble all day, however, 
and can in the long-run outdistance any pony with more ortho- 
dox means of locomotion. 

The summer rains had washed portions of the road away, 
and I noticed a number of labourers repairing it. These also, 
I noticed, were Nepalese and not Sikkimese. In fact, during 
the last few years the number of immigrants from Nepal has 
been so great that the Nepalese inhabitants of Sikkim far 
outnumber the Sikkimese. 

In the early afternoon we began another long ascent, and a 
few hours later found ourselves at last in Gantok, the capital 
of Sikkim, I duly installed myself in the dak-bungalow, and 
-a few moments later the private secretary of the Maharaja 
called to welcome me in the name of his master, and to state 
that His Highness would receive me in audience the next 
morning at eleven. Later in the evening five servants arrived 
from the palace bringing presents of food, so that I was made 
to feel quite a guest of state. 

The next morning at the appointed time I walked along 
the ridge over to the Maharaja’s palace. This consists of two 
buildings, one built in Tibetan style, and the other in European 
style ; but it is significant that the European house 1 is the only 
one now in use. 

I found the Maharaja a very affable young man of about 
twenty-five, pale, thin, and rather nervous and anzmic-looking. 
Affairs of state did not obviously hold particular interest for 
him, though, however, he felt bound to take them as seriously 
as possible. His hobby is photography, and he spends a good 
deal of time in playing with his pet animals. Much more 
impressive and imposing was his wife, the Maharani, a Lhasa 
woman, who obviously had a good deal to say in the AG ay > 
of the household. 

The Maharaja was educated at St. Paul’s School, Darjeeling, 
and speaks excellent English, but in deference to his lady we 
spoke a good deal of Tibetan together. The Maharaja spoke 
Tibetan with a marked Sikkimese accent, using a number of 
local words, but was quite intelligible. What he thought of my 
accent Heaven only knows ! 

The present ruler of Sikkim came to the ehirene quite unex- 
pectedly. : 


ame 


32 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


His predecessor was his brother, a young man of great 
talent and charm, who was educated at Oxford and who had 
travelled very widely. He was very much struck by Japan, 
and was very anxious to marry a Japanese woman. * The India 
Office, for obvious diplomatic reasons, refused to permit such 
a match. It is interesting to note than the India Office had 
the power to do this. The young Maharaja then tried in vain 
to marry a Burmese princess, but in the end he was forced 
to take a Lhasa lady. In spite of his modernist tendencies, 
his secular position, and his state of marital bliss, he enjoyed 
the distinction of being regarded as an incarnation of 
divinity by both Sikkimese and Tibetans. This was the 
result, not of his kingly position, but of a rather interesting . 
chain of circumstances, which deserve narration. 

It is well known that the abbots of the leading temples in 
Tibet are regarded as incarnations of various deities, or, more 
technically, of various Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. When 
such a person dies he is supposed to be reborn again almost 
immediately. A search is made for the sacred child who, 
when found, is at once recognized as the new abbot, a regent 
being appointed to administer his duties during his minority. 

In some cases the selection of the child is done purely by lot. 
In other cases the old abbot, shortly before his death, will give 
some indication as to the place, or family, in which he intends 
to be reborn. 

On one occasion, many years ago, one such living deity grew 
very fond of a little Sikkimese girl, and declared shortly before 
his death that he would be reborn as the first male child to 
whom she should give birth. After the death of the old man, 
the then Maharaja of Sikkim, learning of the prophecy, married 
the girl, who in due course gave him a son and heir, who was 
thus regarded as a deity while his father was still on the throne. 

It is surprising that this young ruler whose character was 
thus swathed in the atmosphere of this quaint old-world 
divinity should have developed into a man so modern and 
European in his ideas. In fact, he proved too progressive for 
his country and his people, and not long after he returned to 
his native land he died suddenly and mysteriously. Rumour 
had it that some of his old-fashioned ministers, disturbed by 
fear of too radical changes gave enough poison to secure that 


BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 33 


the divinity moved on to still another incarnation, in order 
that his younger brother in this life, who was likely to prove 
more pliable, might come to the throne. 

My morning audience with the present Maharaja was not 
the last meeting I had with him for, learning that I was anxious 
to push on the next day, he invited me to tea that afternoon 
in order that I might meet the Englishman who acts as his 
personal assistant. 

This tea-party proved very entertaining, for it was quaint 
to have such an orthodox English meal in the midst of such 
other-world surroundings. The personal assistant proved to 
be a bluff, jolly man of great simplicity, whom I liked 
immensely. He had, I think, been for many years a non- 
commissioned officer doing clerical work, and had only recently, 
upon semi-retirement, taken over his new post. 

His position threw an interesting light on the relations 
between Sikkim and the Indian Government. The senior 
British official in Sikkim is the so-called Political Officer, 
appointed directly by the Viceroy of India, and he exercises an 
enormous amount of power. In theory, however, his post is 
entirely diplomatic, his office corresponding to that of a 
minister or ambassador, so that it is impossible for him to 
interfere too much in the details of everyday internal adminis- 
tration. As a further check on native malpractices, therefore, 
the Maharaja is given an English “ personal assistant.”’ He 
is nominally a servant of the native ruler, and in theory can be 
engaged and dismissed by him, but in practice he holds his 
post at the pleasure of the Political Officer. It is the duty of 
- the personal assistant to act as secretary and adviser to the 
Maharaja on all matters of State (though in theory his advice 
may be disregarded), and also to superintend the wheels of the 
administration and to see that no serious corruption or mal- 
practices take place. 

The entire control of matters of State theoretically lies in 
the hands of the Maharaja, aided by the Council of State, 
consisting of various ministers in charge of separate depart- 
ments, and nominees chosen from the Sikkimese landed aris- 
tocracy. All the members of this body are, of course, natives, 
and it is the wise policy of the British Government to allow the 
native officials to carry out their duties according to their own 

Cc 


34 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


desires so long as there is no flagrant injustice and so long as 
they do not touch on diplomatic affairs. 

Very occasionally an important point of policy will be forced 
on the country by the Political Officer. One such point was an 
importation of Nepalese settlers into the country. — 

A few decades ago the population of Sikkim consisted of 
three or four thousand Lepchas, and a slightly larger number 
of Sikkimese. The Lepchas are supposedly the primitive 
inhabitants of the country. A timid, spiritless, nature-loving, 
childlike folk, they still try to dwell in the hidden forests, far 
away in the hills. They are probably distantly, but very 
distantly, related to the Tibetans, but they possess a language 
and a primitive culture entirely their own. 

The so-called Sikkimese are Tibetans, who in the last three 
hundred years have swept down into the country from the 
north, conquering and displacing the Lepchas. 

Great strapping creatures, most of them are, but incurably 
“ shiftless ’ and lazy. Sikkim is rich in resources, but neither 
Sikkimese nor Lepcha could be made to develop these. 
Consequently the Political Officer of the time, Mr. J. C. White, 
forced the Sikkimese Government to import Nepalese labourers 
and other settlers, and now there are nearly ten Nepalese for 
every one Sikkimese, even in Sikkim. This has proved enor- 
mously beneficial to the wealth of the country, but needless to 
say it proved unpopular among the Sikkimese, who were forced 
to work in competition with a keen and industrious people. 
So far, however, the Sikkimese have kept official posts entirely 
in their own hands. 

The Maharaja urged me to stay in Gantok for several days 
longer, but I told him that it was imperative for me to go on 
with my journey the next day. He was then kind enough to 
suggest that I dismiss the ponies and the coolies I had brought 
with me from Darjeeling, as he would supply me free of cost 
mule transport for my party to Yatung, in the Chumbi Valley, 
the great Tibetan outpost. | 

I was very glad to avail myself of his offer, and the next 
morning set out for the three days’ journey to the Passes. This 
consisted of a long continuous ascent along a narrow trail 
which had been cut into the side of the cliffs. In some places 
the road was only 2 feet wide and we had a sheer drop of 2,000 


BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 35 


feet below us. It was a very exciting journey, as my mule 
would insist on walking along the extreme edge.of the road on 
the very brink of nothingness. In summer the road is fre- 
quently washed away, and in winter the path is completely 
blocked by snow, so that spring and autumn are the only times 
one can count on getting through. Even in September I found 
the road in a very bad state and saw numerous Nepalese coolies 
busy repairing it. 

Gantok lies 6,000 feet above sea-level. The next day brought 
us to Karponang, at an altitude of 9,500 feet ; the day after to 
Changu, with its beautiful lake, 12,600 feet above sea-level ; 
and early the following morning we came to the Natu Pass, 
which at this point divides Sikkimese from Tibetan territory, 
and which lies some 14,000 feet above the sea. 

The last day the climb was so steep that it was impossible to 
ride and the sharp ascent had to be made on foot. At such an 
altitude climbing was terribly fatiguing, and to make matters 
worse we began to suffer from mountain-sickness, a gruesome 
exaggeration of the symptoms felt in sea-sickness. I was 
reminded here of the story of the poor British soldier who took 
part in the 1904 military expedition against Tibet, and who 
remarked on the way up that he had always heard that Tibet 
was a tableland, and that if so, the road up to it must constitute 
one of its legs. 

Very bleak and forlorn is the Natu Pass. In the winter it 
is oftimes covered by thirty feet of snow, and it seems to be a 
central area for great winds and thunderstorms. Nevertheless, 
the view gained from the top was worth all the trouble, the 
pain, and the fatigue of the ascent. In the distance we could 
see the snowy cone of the sacred mountain of Chumolhari, at 
the base of which we knew the real Tibetan plateau started. 
Immediately below us was the Chumbi Valley, the curious 
outpost of the Tibetan Empire, which only at this point stretches 
south of the Himalayan ranges. 

We had, first of all, to make our way down into the thickly- 
populated valley in order that later we might work our way up 
its sides until we came to the barren tableland of Tibet proper. 

The descent proved nearly as difficult asthe ascent. To make 


things easier, the steeper portions of the road, if it could be 


dignified by this name, wound round and round in a singularly 


36 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


sinuous fashion, for even a mule cannot maintain his hold 
when his tail is vertical over his head. Despite the convenience 
of this winding path, there are a great many casualties every 
year among the mule caravans which make their way over the 
passes. 

It was September, and no snow had fallen since the preced- 
ing winter, but here and there we came across great patches of 
snow which even the fierce summer sun had not been able to 
melt away. 

At last, however, we came to the bottom of the valley, and 
I was able to see something of its picturesque villages and their 
inhabitants. In many respects the Chumbi Valley is quite 
unique and is unlike any other part of Tibet. A narrow valley . 
on the south side of the Himalayas, it forms a wedge of Tibetan 
territory lying between the states of Sikkim and Bhutan. Like 
these latter countries, and unlike the barren plains of Tibet 
proper, the sides of its hills are covered with trees, and it receives 
a very heavy annual rainfall, something which is entirely 
unknown on the Tibetan plateau. 

Owing to the severity of its climate, the only crop which true 
Tibet can grow is barley. In Sikkim, on the other hand, the 
staple crop is rice, hence its Tibetan name of Drenjong, or the 
Rice Country. In the Chumbi Valley the main crop is wheat, 
and consequently it gets the Tibetan appelation of Tromo, or 
Wheat Country. 

Ethnologically, as well as geographically, Chumbi is quite 
distinct from Tibet, for though the Chumbi people, in common 
with the Bhutanese and Sikkimese, are of Tibetan origin, they 
have a dialect and many customs entirely their own. 

They have the deserved reputation of being the most beauti- 
ful of all the peoples of Tibetan stock, and many of the young 
men and women I passed were really remarkably handsome. 
Unlike the true Tibetans, with whom filthiness is a virtue 
esteemed by the gods, the Chumbi people are occasionally 
known to wash themselves. 

I was particularly interested in the Chumbi Valley, because 
it is only by an accident that to-day it does not form part of 
the British dominions. 

After the success of the Younghusband expedition in 1904, 
it was arranged that Tibet should pay reparations to the extent 


BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 37 


of Rupees 7,500,000 (or £500,000) to the British Government. 
And pending the full payment of the amount, the Chumbi 
Valley was to remain in the hands of the British Government. 
It was originally agreed that this sum was to be paid in seventy- 
five annual instalments, which meant that England would have 
a seventy-five-year lease on the Chumbi Valley, equivalent 
practically to annexation; but things were destined to turn 
out otherwise. 

In the first place the Liberals came into power in England, 
and in a burst of anti-Imperialism voluntarily reduced the 
reparations claim to one-third of the original amount. 
Secondly, China, anxious to get rid of British occupation every- 
> where in Tibet, came forward and arranged to pay the whole 
sum immediately on behalf of Tibet. This was eventually 
agreed to, and so the British occupation of Chumbi came to an 
end, though the Indian Government reserved the right to keep 
a Trade Agent there, and to station a small body of Indian 
soldiers to act as his bodyguard ; but the administration of the 
district was handed back to the Tibetan officials. 

The British agency is placed in the village of Yatung (pro- 
perly New Yatung), which the Tibetans called Sashima. I 
reached this place that same afternoon. 

Immediately on arrival at the village, I saw a house with a 
Union Jack flying over it, and knowing this to be the British 
Agency, I at once set off to make an official visit. I must 
confess that I went there with a certain feeling of undeserved 
shame. 

In order to protect myself from the bitter morning cold of 
the Passes, I had put on an airman’s helmet, which completely 
covered all of my face except my nose. In this very high 
rarefied atmosphere any portion of the body exposed to the 
sun becomes terribly sunburned, in spite of the intense cold, 
and so when I pulled off my mask before making my visit I 
found that my face as a whole had retained its pallor, while 
my nose was a most fiery red. I looked indeed so like a con- 
firmed toper, that I determined to make a firm display of 
teetotal principles immediately on meeting the British . 
agent. 

My meeting with the Trade Agent turned out to be un- 
expectedly pleasant and informal. The term Trade Agent is 


38 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


somewhat misleading. His duties are exactly those of a consul, 
but he is given his title because he is appointed by the India 
Office and not by the Foreign Office. 

The present occupant of the post is a most charming Eurasian 
by the name of MacDonald. His father was a Scotch tea- 
planter near Darjeeling. His mother was a Sikkimese. His 
wife is a Nepalese, while one of his daughters married an 
Englishman, so that his family can be considered truly cos- 
mopolitan. His mother’s language being but a variation of 
Tibetan, he speaks that language with great fluency, which 
makes him an ideal figure for his post—the intermediary 
between the Tibetans and the Indian Government, though it 
it is interesting to note that, because of his Scotch blood, and . 
in spite of his personal friendship with the Dalai Lama, the 
supreme ruler of Tibet, he also is not allowed to go outside of 
the so-called trade-route, the narrow strip of land that connects 
Yatung with the city of Gyangtsé, still farther in the interior. 
Even to him, apart from the two towns of Gyangtsé and 
Yatung and the direct road which runs between them, Tibet 
is the Forbidden Land. 

There was a rest-house at my disposal at Yatung, but Mr. 
MacDonald very hospitably insisted upon my staying with him 
until my main party should arrive from Darjeeling, and in the 
course of many long conversations with him I secured much 
useful information. 

The next day brought a little excitement in the arrival of 
Major F. M. Bailey, the Political Officer in Gantok, who has also 
complete charge of diplomatic negotiations with the states of 
Bhutan and Tibet. 

The British Trade Agent may be called the Consul, or 
even the Consul-General, while the Political Officer is the 
Ambassador, save that he is not allowed to visit Lhasa, the 
capital of the country to which he is Great Britain’s diplo- 
matic representative. 

In the old days there was an equal ban upon his visiting the 
little kingdom of Bhutan, but this is gradually being lifted, 
owing to some very astute diplomatic moves. The Bhutanese 
were to the surrounding peoples what the Scots robber barons 
were to the English at one time. No neighbouring district was 
free from a raid, and they spread terror and desolation wherever 


BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM 39 


they went. During the last century they gravely mistreated a 
British envoy and the invasion of British India by some of their 
marauding bands forced the Indian Government’ to take action 
and seize a goodly portion of Bhutanese territory, which is now 
known as British Bhutan. Asa sort of rent, however, a yearly 
sum of money is paid to the Bhutanese Government on condi- 
tion that it keeps its subjects in order. 

Trouble continued for some time after owing to the weakness 
of the Central Bhutanese Government. There were two 
“ Kings’ of Bhutan: one was the Dharmaraja, or spiritual 
overlord, and the other was the secular head; but neither 
possessed any efficient control over the Pénlop, or district 
. governors, who were hereditary, semi-independent barons. 

It was obvious, therefore, that a change in policy was neces- 
sary. In 1904 one of these magnates, the Tongsa Ponlop, had 
become the most influential person in Bhutan. He rendered 
very valuable diplomatic assistance to the Younghusband 
expedition while in Tibet, and largely on the advice of Mr. 
White, the previously-mentioned Political Officer in Sikkim at 
that time, not only was the Tongsa Pénlop made a K.C.LE., 
but the Indian Government decided to give moral backing 
enough to allow him to declare himself the first hereditary 
Maharaja, or King of Bhutan. This change was duly made, 
and under the new ruler’s strong hands Bhutan has been welded 
into’ a co-ordinated and centralized state. 

The new ruler did not forget his gratitude, and though 
Bhutan has remained closed to the ordinary Englishman, the 
Political Officer in Sikkim has, on several occasions, made a 
state visit to the capital of Bhutan. Major Bailey was just 
returning from one such visit. On this occasion he was 
accompanied by his wife, and by his mother-in-law, Lady 
Cozens-Hardy. They seem to have had a very interesting 
journey. — 

The next day I paid an official visit to the Baileys, and they 
were kind enough to invite me to lunch. Later events were 
to bring me into very violent political conflict with Major 
Bailey, but personally our relationships were always of 
a very friendly character, and certainly he is a most 
interesting and capable man: a great sportsman and a 
traveller. In the past he has taken several secret journeys 


40 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


through Tibet, though he only got to Lhasa in company 
with the Younghusband Expedition. 

He had only‘recently secured the post of Political Officer, and 
I was much interested to learn from him something of his 
policy towards Tibet, as in his hands lies, to a large extent, the 
future relations between India and Tibet. From a personal 
point of view this presents a very great contrast to that of his 
predecessor, Sir Charles Bell, and well illustrates two different 
ways of handling Orientals. Sir Charles Bell aimed not at 
overaweing the Tibetans, but at securing their close sympathy 
and friendship. In order to do this he thought it necessary to 
conform to certain aspects of prejudice and superstition. Thus, 
for example, he did not either fish or shoot. He abstained from 
tobacco, as the Tibetans regard the use of tobacco with horror. 
When in contact with Tibetans he abstained from eating fish 
and chicken, as the Tibetan regard these foods as unclean. 
This extraordinary regard for native susceptibilities is not 
always successful, but in the case of Sir Charles it seems to have 
worked wonders, and I was later to find that many Tibetan 
officials have an unusual affection for him. 

Major Bailey has followed in the more ordinary lines of 
British administrators, who believe it inconsistent with the 
maintenance of dignity to pander too much to native ideas, but 
certainly his policy has not decreased British prestige in this 
part of the world. But I believe that there is no great ive 
lost between the past and present Political Officers, and as 
Mr. MacDonald, the Trade Agent, and nominally Major 
Bailey’s subordinate, is a protégé of Sir Charles Bell, the relation 
between the Political Officer and the Trade Agent has some- 
times an interesting side. 

A day or two later my main party arrived in Yatung, and 
shortly after Major Bailey and his party returned to Gantok, 
but not until he had given us final and rather unexpected orders. 
As previously stated, he has authority to grant special passes 
permitting Europeans to go on to Gyangtsé, several miles 
farther into the interior, and these he handed to us, but only 
after extracting from each of us a solemn promise that we 
should not depart from the main, direct route to Gyangtsé, and 
further that, in the event of the Tibetans refusing us permission 
to go farther, we would return immediately to India. This was 


BRITISH INFLUENCE IN SIKKIM AI 


a serious blow to the scheme which I had already in mind of 
going on in disguise from Gyangtsé in case we were refused 
permission to go on to Lhasa, but equally vexatious was the 
promise we were forced to make that, even if we could extract 
permission from the Tibetan officials to go on to the Forbidden 
City, we should leave our cinematograph camera behind at 
Gyangtsé. For scientific purposes we had very strongly 
wanted to get a living record of Lhasa life, but we were 
completely in the Political Officer’s power, and had to sign 
the necessary guarantee. 


°. 


CHAPTER IV 


ON THE TRADE-ROUTE 
WE were now in a position to move on, but before doing so 
our reunited party decided to pay an official visit of courtesy 
to the Tibetan Depon, or General, who was the chief official of . 
the Chumbi Valley, and who was placed there to carry on any 
necessary negotiations with the British Trade Agent. 

We rode down the valley for a bit and soon found ourselves 
in front of his house. It was a substantial mansion of typically 
Tibetan design, being built around acourtyard. Its walls were 
of stone and were four or five feet thick. The door only was of 
wood, and was painted in gaudy Chinese design. 

Entering the courtyard, we ascended to the second story, 
which was the residential part, and met there the Depén, who 
proved to be a most beguiling old man, trained in the school of 
Chinese diplomacy. He assured us that since we hady\come to 
Tibet its desert wastes would bloom with lotus-flowers;sand 
while flattering us in this unctuous fashion was concocting-a™ 
letter in his mind which, as soon as we had left, he secretly wrote 
to the Lhasa Government advising them to have nothing to do 
with us. Nevertheless, we got an excellent and free lunch out 
of him. 

Returning that evening to Yatung, we found that a 
Bhutanese chieftainess had arrived with three of her husbands 
—all people of Tibetan stock practise polyandry, of which more 
hereafter. They were on a visit to Mr. MacDonald, having been 
invited to attend the wedding of his daughter and arrived 
exactly a month too late—a typically Oriental way of keeping 
an appointment. 

I noticed the husbands were very meek and tame-looking, 
and I heard that the doughty dame had the reputation of 
being something of a bully. 


42 


ON THE TRADE-ROUTE 43 


Both men and women in Bhutan wear very short dresses, so 
that the chieftainess exposed to sight a vast quantity of leg, 
but seemed not in the least discomposed about it. 

In contrast to the elaborate head-dresses of the women in 
Tibet proper, the Bhutanese women wear their hair bobbed, 
and it was really comic to see so modern a European custom 
on so primitive a woman. It was obvious that she was not 
only wealthy but strong, for she wore around her neck a great 
necklace of coral, which weighed more than fifteen pounds. 
Her conversational abilities were limited, and her favourite 
amusement was chewing betel, which she spat out with great 
gusto upon some of Mr. MacDonald’s fine carpets. Her aim 

- was remarkable, and reminded me of the performance of certain 
Kentucky colonels with chewing tobacco. 

She was very courageous generally, but very much afraid of 
dogs. On one occasion we were out in the garden and a puppy 
ran up and barked. The Bhutanese chieftainess gave one 
shriek and ran for protection—not to one of her husbands, but 
to Mr. Harcourt, the cinematographer, the youngest and hand- 
somest member of our party. She clung so desperately that 
all the breath was squeezed out of him before I had time to 
pick the puppy up and put it in its kennel. 

After this episode we began to fear that Mr. Harcourt would 
be kidnapped and added to the lady’s ‘“‘ harem,” and so we 
deg#aéd, without fail, to leave the next day on the road for 
“ayangtsé. 

Shortly after leaving Yatung, and while still following the 
narrow ravine which leads from the Chumbi Valley to the 
Tibetan plateau, we came to the great Chumbi Monastery, well 
known on account of its learned abbot, and also because of the 
famous oracle, or prophet, who is housed therein. 

I was shown all over the monastery, and then, with two of 
our party, had lunch with the abbot, and we had a high time 
talking over fine points of Buddhist theology. The old man, 
though educated at the great Trashilhumpo Monastery at 
Shigatsé, was born in Mongolia, and so I was able to win his 
affection by talking to him in his native tongue, which he had 
not heard for many years. 

_ ' Our whole party then assembled to see the oracle. Like the 
late O. Henry, I am not superstitious in that I refuse to believe 


44 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


in black cats, palmistry, or the weather forecasts in the news- 
papers ; but certainly our prophet friend turned out to be very 
interesting. 

Although at present the most famous, he is not the only 
oracle which Tibet possesses. Formerly there was in Lhasa 
itself an oracle renowned for his prophecies, but in the course 
of a long life he made one mistake. At the beginning of the 
Younghusband Expedition—the Tibetans dignify it with the 
title of the war between India and Tibet—he foretold that 
Tibet would be successful and drive the barbarians away. 
- After the final defeat of the Tibetans and the*flight of the 
Dalai Lama, he went the way of all false prophets, and had 
his head removed from his shoulders, since when he has *‘ 
ceased to prophesy. 

I observed the Chumbi oracle very closely, and found that 
his methods correspond in general to those used by mediums 
in the West. He goes into an ecstatic trance, frequently 
accompanied by epileptic symptoms, and while thus obsessed 
delivers semi-coherent words which foretell what is to happen. 
Generally, like the Delphic oracle of old, his prophecies are 
delightfully vague, and can be made to fit the event however 
it may turn out ;. but it is remarkable that half-way through 
the great world war he foretold the exact year and month in 
which hostilities would cease. AY 

Not long after leaving the monastery we came to the village 


of Gautsa, the last village of the Chumbi Valley. Here we 


bade good-bye to the trees. Hereafter we were to live on the 
desolate ‘‘ Roof of the World.” The next day we emerged 
from the ravine-valley formation, and found ourselves on the 
great Tibetan tableland—broad, treeless, plantless plains 
bordered by rippling, even hills; hills, however, which were 
18,000 to 20,000 feet above sea-level. 

Continuing along the plateau for some hours, we at last 
came in sight of Pari Castle, situated in the centre of the great 
Pari Plain, with Chumolhari, the sacred mountain, looming in 
the background. 

On reaching the town of Pari, the first thing that we noticed 
was a tiny sacred island in the middle of a frozen lake. Hereon 
were erected prayer-flags which, as they fluttered in the breeze, 
wiped out the sins of man, according to Tibetan belief; and 


iF 


\ 





THE ORACLE OF TIBET 





THE ORACLE OF TIBET 
With his servants and as he is normally 


fon 


af 
its 
ee 
t+ 








y Ay ; 
ON THE TRADE-ROUTE 45 


here morning and evening was burned incense, the sweet odour 
of which appeased the dark demons of the night. 

Behind the island of prayer, and protected by it, is the great 
castle of Pari, the giant outpost fortress guarding this part of 
the Tibetan frontier. Armed as we were with special passes 
permitting us to go as far as Gyangtsé, the local officials were 
unable to turn us back, and so made the most of a bad job by 
inviting us to a State luncheon, which lasted for four hours. 
Most of the food was in Chinese and not in Tibetan style 
(Chinese cooking is in Tibet what French cooking is in 
England and America), but we were forced to consume enor- 
mous quantities of Tibetan tea. 

I was very much amused by one incident. The use of 
tobacco is very strictly prohibited in Tibet. The smoking of 
tobacco is regarded by Tibetans in very much the same way 
as is the smoking of opium in Europe (it is curious that the 
Chinese never taught the Tibetans to smoke opium), but one 
of the two governors of the castle had contracted a great liking 
for cheap English cigarettes, two or three of which he smoked 
while we were there. During the lunch he sidled up to me and 
in a whisper implored me to say nothing about his smoking in 
Lhasa, because if it were known he would inevitably be dis- 
missed and disgraced. 

After lunch was over we ascended to the roof of the castle 
and gained a panoramic view of the town of Pari, which has the 
well-earned reputation of being the filthiest town in the world. 
Owing to the fact that refuse has been continually thrown into 
the streets, these streets are now nearly on a level with the roofs 
of the houses, which look as if they were built underground. 
Pari is, in fact, buried in its own filth. Picturesque it certainly 
is, however, for on every roof there flutters a prayer-flag or 
two, and on many of them are piled heaps of barley-straw and 
yak-dung. 

On the outskirts of the town could be seen fields sown 
with barley, but being nearly 15,000 feet above sea-level, and 
exposed to the untempered influence of the Himalayan cold, 
this barley very seldom ripens, and its stalks can only be used 
as animal fodder. No other cultivation is possible, so that 
the local inhabitants must get their living from their flocks, 
and as carriers on the great caravan-route between Lhasa and 


46 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Kalimpong. Most of the precious wool which Tibet sends 
down to India comes through Pari. 

While continuing our march the next day, we were very 
much struck by the great beauty of the neighbouring 
mountain, Chumolhari. This peak is 24,000 feet high, and its 
steep sides and proudly-precipitous glaciers render it one of the 
most difficult mountains in the world to ascend. The natural 
grandeur of Chumolhari has impressed itself even upon the 
stolid Tibetan, and he worships the mountain as a goddess, as 
the fair lady of the everlasting snows, and on its sides they 
believe dwell the gnomes, the demons, and the goblins who 
play such an important part in Tibetan folk-lore. 

For the most part our way lay along the great bare, desolate 
plains, occasionally intersected by mountains. Sometimes 
the plain narrowed down to a valley between such mountain 
ranges. Properly speaking, there are no roads in Tibet. The 
officials need all the tax-money for their own private require- 
ments, and have none to spend on public works ; but though 
Tibet excludes outsiders, the Tibetans are great travellers inside 
of their own country, and the great caravans going to and fro 
in Tibet have worn out for themselves a settled route. In 
some places the ground is too sandy for the yaks or mules to 
leave any permanent tracks, but in other places, where the 
ground consists of mud or clay, one sees huge ruts or tracks 
through which the animals have picked their way for ages. 
Wheeled traffic is completely unknown. The only cart which 
the country possesses is used to transport an idol inside the 
city of Lhasa, and this has to be pulled by men. 

We were travelling slowly, as we wished to see something of 
the country, and so en route we were overtaken and passed by 
Mr. MacDonald, who was also going to Gyangtsé to look after 
us while we were there. Formerly there was also a British 
Trade Agent at Gyangtsé, but for some time past Mr. 
MacDonald has been in charge of both posts, so that frequently 
he has to go from one place to the other. 

A day or two later “‘ Toby,” my lama secretary, became very 
ill. We thought it was pneumonia, which in Tibet, owing to 
the rarefied atmosphere, is always nearly fatal, so we imagined 
we were in for a bad time. The next day he grew worse, and 
as the main party could not delay, they went on, leaving me 


ON THE TRADE-ROUTE 47 


and Lhaten behind to nurse Toby, and, if necessary, to bury 
him. 

There was nothing we could do except to feed him with cod- 
liver oil and malt and wait for the crisis. One afternoon, a 
couple of days later, while Toby was asleep, I got out some of 
my Tibetan books—all books in Tibet are of a religious charac- 
ter—and began chanting from them, as I thought it was the 
best way to continue with my Tibetan studies. This continued 
some two hours, and by a curious coincidence, when Toby awoke, 
we found the crisis had passed and that he was much better. 
By the natives the benefit of the cod-liver oil was forgotten, 
and the “cure ”’ was attributed to my religious incantations, 
and I was put down as a “ holy man,” a reputation that was 
later to stand me in good stead. 

A day or two later we were able to go on again, and by 
travelling double stages we soon caught up with our main party. 
Our long journey to Gyangtsé was broken each evening by our 
stay in one of the official rest-houses, erected at the order of 
the Indian Government, in order to establish a line of communi- 
cation between their two outposts in Yatung and Gyangtsé, 
and available for strategic purposes in case of the renewed 
outbreak of hostilities. At each camp we spent some time 
in trying to gain the friendship and confidence of the natives. 
Throughout this part of Tibet, in this narrow six-mile strip 
reaching to Gyangtsé, they had become inured to foreign 
barbarians, but were apt to be sullen. We found, however, 
that music has indeed charms to win the savage breast. With 
us we had a small portable gramophone, and the villagers 
crowded around to hear the weird noises that came out of the 
box. In fact, after the ice had been broken, they even entered 
into a competition to see who would be the first to learn the 
tango and the fox-trot and the shimmy. 

It was now the autumn season, and as we passed through 
occasional straggling villages we could see the peasants hard 
at work harvesting their crops. Tibet is far too bleak and 
cold to be an agricultural country, and the one thing that can 
be grown in any quantity is barley, an unusually hardy plant. 
The threshing was carried on by the process which has come 
- down from time immemorial, and consisted of the whole family 
walking on the barley stalks and stamping out the grain, 


48 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Round and round they went, wife, husbands, and children, 
aided by the slow-moving Tibetan cattle, a cross between 
Indian cattle and the indigenous yak of Tibet. 

On many occasions, as we went along the road, we passed by 
some shrine or sacred image. One of these, the famous Red 
Idol, as it is called, is quite imposing, and I noticed, with 
particular interest, the heap of tiny stones in front of it. As 
Tibet has no flowers to present to the idols, the Tibetan 
peasants will carry pebbles and heap them up before the image 
—certainly a very curious way of showing their respect. 
Beyond is the Red Idol Gorge, named after the image, and here 
I caused my servants a great deal of uneasiness by galloping 
on ahead of our party and alone. The gorge is noted for its 
bandits and highwaymen, and Tibetans will only go through 
it in large parties. As I passed through I noticed one group of 
horsemen who did indeed look somewhat suspicious, but instead 
of trying to avoid them, I made straight for them, and to my 
surprise they immediately turned tail and scampered away. 

Two days later we came to a little village where the narrow 
valley widened out into a plain once more, and we could see 
ahead of us in the distance the town of Gyangtsé, our immediate 
goal, 


CHAPTER V 
: GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST 


GYANGTSE is sonie 147 miles inside the frontier. It is the 
third largest city in Tibet, and is the seat of an important 
administrative district. In common with other such places, 
the town itself is dominated and rendered almost insignificant 
by the great stone castle, which is on the top of the hill in the 
very centre of the plain. The castle is one of the most imposing 
anywhere in Tibet, and certainly deserves to rank on a par with 
any of the medizval European castles, although it has only 
recently been rebuilt. 

A mile and a half away from the castle the Indian Govern- 
ment has erected a strongly-fortified block-house, where are 
housed the British Trade Agent and his escort of soldiers. It 
is necessary to keep this armed escort here in order to see that 
no attempt be made on the life of the British agent by any of 
the fanatical peasantry. 

‘ We found Mr. MacDonald, the agent, waiting for us, and he 
gave us a warm welcome and lunch. The fort is connected by 
telegraph-wires with Yatung and Kalimpong, so that it is 
possible for the agent to communicate at once to the Indian 
Government ‘any event of especial importance which may take 
place in Tibet, though communications are much handicapped 
by the fact that no British representative is allowed to reside 
in Shigatsé or Lhasa, or anywhere within the interior, and the 
agent jas to rely very largely upon the vague rumours which 


, o., their way down to Gyangtsé. 
he establishment of the British agency and fort here is the 
’ direct result of the Younghusband expedition, which was of 
such far-reaching importance that just a word must be said 
concerning it. 


D 49 


50 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Owing to the close proximity of Tibet and India, the British— 
Indian Government tried for many years to enter into diplo- 
matic negotiations with the Tibetan hierarchy. As far back as 

1774, Warren Hastings, the first and greatest of the Governor- 
Generals of India, sent a diplomatic mission to the Trashi 
Lama in Shigatsé, under George Bogle, and followed this up by 
another mission in 1783 under Turner. Neither of these had 
any permanent effect, and neither of them got to Lhasa. 
Gradually Tibet became more rigid in her isolation, and the 
relations between India and Tibet grew worse and worse. This 
was accentuated by various boundary disputes, and by the 
question as to which country was to have paramount influence 
in Sikkim. : 

A final peaceful settlement was rendered difficult because the 
Tibetan officials refused even to negotiate : special letters which 
were sent by the Viceroy of India to the Dalai Lama, and 
couched in the most complimentary terms, were returned 
unopened. In 1903 the British sent a special commission under 
Younghusband to Kampa Dzong, just inside the Tibetan fron- — 
tier, and asked the Tibetan Government to send down represen- 
tatives with whom they could negotiate. This request was 
ignored, and as at the same time the Dalai Lama was coquetting 
with Russia, it was decided to send an armed expedition into 
Tibet in support of Colonel Younghusband’s mission, to see 
that no harm befell the members of this mission as they 
continued on into the interior in order to negotiate a treaty of 
peace with the Tibetan Government. 

Instead of marching forward from Kampa Dzong, it was 
decided that the expedition should move forward into Tibet 
along the very same line which we had followed. Skirmishes 
took place between the Tibetans and the British forces at Guru, 
and one or two other places between Pari and Gyangtsé, but 
the most serious engagement took place in Gyangtsé itself, 
where the Tibetans delivered a serious attack and heavy fighting 
took place, in which, in the end, the Tibetans were worvted. 

For some extraordinary reason, the Tibetans still re:used 
to enter into serious negotiations, and it was necessary for ti:e 
mission to continue its march from Gyangtsé to Lhasa, at 
which city it arrived in August 1904, only to find that 
diplomatic negotiations were still difficult, as the Dalai 


GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST 51 


Lama, the Supreme Pontiff, and many of his TEN ec 
officers, had fled. 

It was obviously impossible to pursue the Dalai Lama ind 
bring him back, and the rapid approach of winter made it 
necessary for the British troops to return to India as soon as 
possible. After several weeks of delay, Colonel (now Sir 
Francis) Younghusband eventually got the leading people in 
Lhasa together and forced them to sign a treaty of peace. 

The terms of this were very simple. It provided principally 
for the opening-up of trade centres at Yatung and Gyangtsé, 
and also in Gartok in the extreme west of Tibet, to which 
British officials were to be appointed, and to which British 


subjects approved by the Indian Government might travel. 


Fearing Russian and other encroachment, it was stipulated 
that Tibet should not sell or lease any of her territory or 
resources to any foreign Power. The Indian Government was 
anxious to secure the right to keep a diplomatic representative 
in Lhasa, but the Tibetans raised such a storm of protest 
against this suggestion that it was waived, but only on the 
condition that no other representatives or agents of any 
foreign Power should be admitted to Tibet. 

Immediately after the signing of the treaty the Young- 
husband Expedition returned, and the close isolation of 
Tibet, apart from three places specifically mentioned in the 
treaty, continued. 

As we were anxious to go farther into the interior, and even to 
be accorded permission to go on to the capital itself, it was neces- 
sary for us to apply for special grace on the part of the Tibetan 
officials. Sooner or later the matter would be referred to Lhasa 
for final decision, but it was necessary to carry on negotiations 
with the officials resident in Gyangtsé, and in order to secure 
their recommendation we were advised to accompany our 
request with a little personal ‘‘ keepsake’”’ in token of our 
regard. 

Mr. MacDonald was kind enough to advise us which persons 
wer” the proper people to approach. In the first place, we 


-eiimbed up to the castle and paid a ceremonial visit to the 


governors there; but even more importance was placed on a 


State call upon the Kenchung, who is generally called the 


Tibetan Trade Agent, as it is his duty to negotiate with the 


52 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Pritish Trade Agent in Gyangtsé. The old Depén in the 
Chumbi Valley is more of a consul, and the Kenchung may be 
termed the Tibetan Ambassador to Great Britain, although his 
ambassadorship keeps him inside of his own country. 

He is only three-fourths Tibetan, having Chinese blood in his 
veins, and several years’ residence in China has taught him how 
to conduct negotiations in the wiliest of ways. I was surprised 
to find that, though he spoke Chinese fluently, he was unable 
to read or write a word of it. Later I discovered that this is 
true of most of the Tibetans who claim to have a knowledge of 
Chinese. There are quite a number of such peeple, owing to 
the long period of Chinese domination in Tibet, but they are 
nearly all confined to the official classes. 

One of the few serious mistakes which Kipling made in his 
Kim, that most fascinating of all books, is to suppose that the 
Tibetan lamas, or priests, are conversant with Chinese, or 
quote from it for ecclesiastical purposes. In Tibet I never met 
a single priest who had any knowledge of literary Chinese— 
not even of the Chinese Buddhistic literature. 

In the old days the Kenchung must have spoken Chinese 
very fluently, but I found that he was getting rusty, as he 
had not used it for ten years. As is generally known, until 
1912 Tibet had to acknowledge the suzerainty of China. Two 
Chinese Ambans, or official residents, were kept in Lhasa, and 
numerous petty officials and soldiers were scattered throughout 
the country. There had long been a strong nationalist move- 
ment in Tibet, and eventually, taking advantage of the Chinese 
revolution of I911, the Tibetans were able to overcome their 
Chinese masters. Many of them were killed, and the remainder 
were sent back to their native country. Tibet declared herself 
absolutely independent, and refused even to have Chinese 
diplomatic representatives in Lhasa. This has greatly simpli- 
fied British negotiations with Tibet, as in the old days one never 
knew whether to communicate direct with the Lhasa officials or 
with the Chinese overlords, and this dual sway was made the 
excuse for much evasion of treaty conditions. ‘ 


The Kenchung received us with a great deal of state, a 


after hearing our desires and requests, informed us that he was 
powerless to give or refuse permission to go on, but that he 


would send by courier to Lhasa a communication in which he | 


‘4 


GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST 53) 


would state our whole case. Pending the ultimate decision, we 
were not to advance a step farther into Tibetan territory ; Sut 
we had his permission to wander about the city as much as we 
pleased. 

We were very glad to avail ourselves of his invitation. The 
period of waiting continued much longer than we had antici- 
pated, and, in fact, extended over a period of nearly two 
months; but so busy were we adding to our experiences that 
the time passed very quickly. Official visits to various local 
notabilities in an attempt to ingratiate ourselves with the 
natives took*up,a good deal of this time, but in addition 
many hours were spent in casual wanderings through the 
‘busy market-place and the teeming, irregular streets of 
the city. 

The market-place and a large portion of the residential section 
of the city belongs to the monastery built on the slope of the hill 
which arises just behind the town. This monastery, needless 
to say, was visited by us on several occasions. 

As monasteries go inside of Tibet, the Gyangtsé establish- 
ment is not particularly large, as it has only a thousand monks 
within its walls, but historically it is both famous and impor- 
tant. The monks have at their disposal some twenty build- 
ings. . Of these the most important is the Du-Kang or the great 
assembly-hall, in which are placed the principal images. It is 
here that every day all the monks gather together to read their 
liturgy and perform their religious ceremonies. 

On either side of the great doorway are two great images, 
representing in all the four great guardian deities of the four 
quarters of the world. The Tibetans believe that, by placing 
these fearsome images at the entrance-hall, no evil spirit can 
enter into the temple itself to disturb the pious monks at their 
prayers within. 

The images inside the temple were equally interesting, some 
of them being remarkably well made. The principal image 
was taat of the historical Buddha, the Indian sage who walked 
theearth preaching the doctrine of emancipation from the 
Wheel of life more than two thousand years ago. Strangely 
enough, such images are rare in Tibet, as the Tibetan prefers 
to worship at the shrine of some purely mythological deity, one 
of the so-called non-human, or Dhyani, Buddhas. 


\ 54 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


\Another image showing fine craftmanship was that of the 
Bodhisattva Maitreya. A Bodhisattva is a being who in some 
nea¥ future birth will gain the crown of Buddhahood, or supreme 
enlightenment. Maitreya, the compassionate, is the next 
Buddha destined to be born in the world, and is adored by 
nearly every sort of Buddhist. He is frequently portrayed 
almost as a European. I have sometimes seen representa- 
tions of him with white skin and blue eyes, and in nearly all 
cases his image is sitting on a chair in European style as opposed 
to the Oriental cross-legged attitude assumed BY the other 
Tibetan deities. 

What, however, proved most eitertaiaied was a small chapel 
on the third story—the hall of the abbots, with numerous: 
images representing the past bishops or archbishops of the 
Gyangtsé temple. The curious mitres which some of them wore 
were particularly striking, as were also the high, and even 
aquiline, noses of some of the departed worthies, a feature in 
such great contrast to the broad, flat noses of the modern 
Tibetan peasant. 

Immediately to the left of the Du-Kang, or the assembly-hall, 
is a great gilded shrine called by the Tibetans a chorten, and 
popularly called the Golden Pagoda. This is the object of 
pilgrimage on the part of the peasantry for hundreds of miles 
around. | 

Let into the walls of the lower part of the pagoda were a 
number of revolving barrels. These were the famous Tibetan 
prayer-wheels. It is the duty of every man, as he passes along, 
to stop and twist these wheels, causing them to revolve. By 
this exercise, it is believed, a man acquires an enormous amount 
of merit, and by his pious efforts he is ridded of all his sins. 
Certainly, in Tibet, salvation from sins seems extraordinarily 
easy, and it is, I think, a facility which is greatly needed by its 
inhabitants. 

From the bottom of the great shrine we could look up the 
hill and see numerous other monastic buildings. At the top 
of the slope was the great storehouse where is kept a huge q 
supply of dried yak’s-meat and barley-flour for the us@—= = 
of the monks during winter. A little below it was the 
residence of the Lama Trodampa, or the abbot of the whole 
monastery, 


fea 
GYANGTSE: THE GOLDEN CHORTEN 





(PAGODA) 





GYANGTSE: A BRITISH OUTPOST 58 


I put on the whole ecclesiastical outfit given me by the great 
Buddhist cathedral of Kyoto as a token of, my honorary 
Buddhist ordination, and paid the old lama a visit. He 
received me with great courtesy. We had a long conversation, 
in the course of which he remarked that in order to understand 
Tibetan Buddhism one required a knowledge of Sanskrit, the 
classical language of India. By chance the little gift which I 
had brought with me to present to him was a Buddhist book 
in Sanskrit, so after his statement I thought it a good chance 
to*give it to him, but I found that the old gentleman had been 
“ bluffing,’ because he understood not a word of it, in spite of 
his exalted position. 

This little misunderstanding did not militate against our 
getting along together very well, and the abbot was kind enough 
to let me have the use of the temple library, with its thousands 
of valuable and long-forgotten manuscripts. These were 
brought to our rest-house from time to time, and I was able 
to make a number of interesting “‘ finds.” This made me feel 
all the keener to get on to Lhasa, where, of course, the literary 
material was much greater, and all of us waited from day to day 
in anxious expectation of favourable news from the capital. 

Alas! All of our hopes were suddenly blighted. One 
morning we received a visit from the Kenchung, who informed 
us that a definite answer had now been received from Lhasa, 
and that in no circumstances would our party be permitted to 
journey there. This was indeed a very sad blow to all our fond 
expectations, and meant decisive and absolute failure. Anxious 
to grasp at any straw that presented itself, we decided to make 
one more desperate attempt to carry out part of our ideas. 
We thought that possibly the Lhasa Government had been 
affected in its decision by the comparatively large number of 
Europeans in our party. Consequently, Knight, Fletcher, and 
Harcourt returned immediately to India by the same way 
which we had come, though they stopped en route to make a 
closer survey of the environs of Mount Chumolhari, and 
managed by their surveys to add many interesting details to 
our geographical knowledge of the country. 

Ellam and I remained in Gyangtsé a short time longer in 
order to send in a further petition to the Lhasa authorities, ask- 
ing that they reconsider their decision and allow us to come to 


56 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the Forbidden City, or, failing this, that we be permitted to 
visit Shigatsé, the second largest city in Tibet, the seat of the 
famous Trashi Lama, and the centre of an important ecclesias- 
tical organization. We further requested that, should both 
these favours be denied, at least we be given permission to 
remain for a few months in Gyangtsé in order to continue our 
researches there. Another two weeks brought us an answer 
to this petition in no uncertain terms. 

All three requests were given a decisive refusal, and we were 
peremptorily ordered to leave the country immediately. I was 
very much put out by this curt refusal and the way it was 
handed to us, and was anxious to start my attempt to reach 
the Forbidden City in secret and in disguise immediately. I . 
had here numerous native friends and sympathizers who would 
have aided me in my attempt. But I remembered my promise 
given to Bailey that I should return to India in case of refusal, 
and rather than break my word I decided to return to 
Darjeeling with Ellam. So we turned back on our weary way ; 
rendered all the more weary by the sense of failure and dis- 
appointment. 

We crossed over the Jelap Pass into India at the end of 
November just in time, for we met with a snowstorm which 
continued for many days, and eventually stopped all traffic for 
many weeks thereafter. 

Once back in Darjeeling (we arrived there on December 9), 
I was entirely free from my bond and began making active 
steps for a new undertaking, for I was determined that, come 
what might, I should make one more attempt to reach the 
Sacred City of the Buddhas, if necessary even by stealth and 
by disguise, and to trust to luck to help me through the dangers 
of detection and possibly of violent treatment at the hands of 
the religious fanatics in this land of seclusion. 


on 


CHAPTER VI 
» PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 


I was determined to keep to my promise no matter at what 
cost, and so had come back to India before starting on my new 
undertaking, but even during my long stay at Gyangtsé, every 
day I had been making special studies which would enable me 
to undertake the new journey in disguise. By this time I was 
so well known personally on the Yatung—Gyangtsé road that 
I definitely decided not to use this route again, so it was 
necessary to learn something of the other roads and passes 
leading from India into the interior of Tibet, and this knowledge 
had to be secured very delicately, as the Tibetan authorities 
were already suspicious of my movements. Consequently long 
hours were wasted in casual conversation, in order that I might 
slip in seemingly purposeless questions about other parts of the 
country. Gradually my cipher notebook was filled with a huge 
mass of miscellaneous information concerning towns, roads, 
snowfall in passes, and the severity and laxity of various 
officials in different parts of Tibet ; but much was still lacking 
that in order to carry out my designs it was desirable to 
know. 

As the journey would have to be done in disguise, with grave 
danger of detection, it was necessary to train myself to act asa 
Tibetan. The renewal of intensive study of colloquial Tibetan 
since August had, of course, greatly aided my fluency in speak- 
ing. I could now converse for several hours on end with no 
great difficulty, but this was far from being able to speak as a 
native. More particularly, apart from orders to servants, all 
my practice of language had been with my native secretary, 
local officials, and other persons, who spoke what is known as 
the “ elegant language.’ I decided to travel as a servant in 


37 


58 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


order to attract less attention, so it became necessary to make 
myself proficient in “ coolie talk.’’ Consequently, rather to 
the scandal of the other members of the party, who as yet were 
completely ignorant of my design, I made frequent excuses to 
go to the kitchen and listen to the servants talking among 
themselves, making careful note of their tones, their slang, the 
manner in which they spoke of their own and other masters, 
and last, but not least, the exact way in which they squatted, 
spat, quarrelled, and carried on flirtations with local dames 
and damsels. : 

This was as far as I could go while I remained in Gyangtsé, 
but once I was back at Darjeeling, in India, I could go on with 
active preparations. Up to this time I had kept the idea of a 
journey in disguise entirely to myself, but immediately after 
arriving in Darjeeling I revealed my plans to the four English 
friends who had been my companions so far as Gyangtsé. 
This led to tremendous discussion, but in the end the proposi- 
tion was agreed to, and thereafter my companions gave me 
enthusiastic support through all my difficulties. 

At first it was proposed that I be accompanied by one of the 
other members of the late mission, but eventually it was unani- 
mously agreed that I should attempt the task of getting to 
Lhasa alone, inasmuch as I was the only one who could speak 
Tibetan at all fluently. This meant that I was forced to 
spend some time in learning from Harcourt the art of cinema- 
tography, as I was very anxious to secure a film of the 
Sacred City. 

It took exactly a month to get everything in order. This 
included the purchase of transport animals and the hire of 
servants. A visit in secret to the city of Kalimpong enabled 
me to secure three mules and three ponies. In Darjeeling 
itself I engaged four servants whom I thought would be suit- 
able for my present purpose. These were, first, a native secre- 
tary, who was later to play the part of my master on my arrival 
in Tibet. Owing to certain delinquencies in character, he 
received from me the soubriquet of “‘ Satan.’”’ The second was 
my “‘ bearer,’ or personal servant, who had already accom- 
panied me to Gyangtsé, and had proved his efficiency and 
loyalty. The third was a syce, or groom, who was to have 
charge of the animals. The fourth was a poor stunted, half- 





TRASHI-GIGEN (MEANING “FELICITOUS TEACHER”’)—OR SATAN 


The harebrained Tibetan secretary who acted as master on the journey while Dr. McGovern was 
in disguise 


PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 59 


witted boy, whom I called Diogenes, and who was to act as 
“odd man.” 

All these were Sikkimese. Ethnologically speaking, Sikkim 
is a province of Tibet, for the true Sikkimese are Tibetans 
who have migrated in modern times to the south side of the 
Himalayas. Their kinship is acknowledged by the Lhasa 
authorities, so that they are allowed to go to the Sacred City 
at will. Inasmuch as my servants were Sikkimese, and as the 
Sikkimese dialect differs somewhat from that spoken round 
Lhasa and Shigatsé, I considered it safer to go myself as a 
Sikkimese, rather than as an inhabitant of one of the Central 
Provinces. Slight deficiencies in Tibetan etiquette and differ- 
ence in pronunciation would thus be explained by a story of 
Sikkimese origin. One of my great difficulties in engaging 
servants was the necessity of employing them under false 
pretences. It was absolutely necessary to have all my plans 
kept secret, as otherwise the Tibetans would certainly have 
heard of the project, and everything would have been frus- 
trated. At the same time, I knew it was impossible to make a 
secret departure from Darjeeling. A mysterious and sudden 
disappearance would have excited suspicion immediately, and 
a search would have been made for me. It is always useful 
to make one’s secret preparations “‘ under the limelight.” I 
therefore gave it out that I was going on a two months’ tour 
through Sikkim ; exploring the unknown regions and climbing 
some of the out-of-the-way mountains in order to carry on 
geological work. This excuse would allow me to disappear for 
several weeks on end without exciting comment. At the same 
time it permitted me to test the calibre of my new servants. 
If they were frightened at the idea of climbing 20,000-feet 
high glaciers in mid-winter, it was obvious they would not 
serve my purpose. 

The question of equipment had to be finally considered. 
All the camp kit of the ordinary explorer had necessarily to be 
done without, but food, clothes, and materials for disguise had 
to be purchased. Food-supplies were cut down to an absolute 
minimum, since I intended to eat nothing but native food once 
I was in Tibet, and even in Sikkim, through which once more 
we would have to journey, and to rely entirely upon local 
provender. Asa sort of last resort, I packed away three tins of 


7 eS TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Quaker Oats and five pounds of sugar. The sugar was a 
luxury, my sole compromise with Hedonism, to be used along 
with native food, as the Tibetans never employ it or any substi- 
tute, being one of the few people who manage to exist without 
any form of sweets. The rolled oats was a necessary standby. 
In the past I had been able to exist for a considerable period on 
porridge alone when no other food was available, and I knew 
that we would be in some danger of starvation should we be 
caught in the passes by snowstorms and be unable to g0 for- 
ward or to return. 

The selection of clothes required a great deal of care. I had 
already purchased, or been presented with, several lama cos- 
tumes and also costumes such as were worn by native officials, 
but none of these would do in the present instance, as I had to 
be clad in the poorest garb. In the end I secured three coolie 
dresses, one new and specially made to order, and two old ones 
which had already seen long service, as the possession of a whole 
wardrobe of new clothes would have been certain to excite 
suspicion. 

Materials for disguise included hair-dye, a mixture of iodine 
and walnut-juice to stain the skin, dark goggles, two lemons, 
and a small bottle of glue to be used to camouflage the 
colour of my eyes. The use of these last two articles will 
be explained hereafter. No one outside the five Europeans 
of our Gyangtsé party had any inkling of what was being 
done. To make surety doubly sure, Knight agreed to go out 
into Sikkim on an independent tour in order to distract 
attention from me. Ostensibly both of us were to make 
by different roads for Pemayangtsé, the largest monastery 
in Sikkim. | 

In a quiet, unostentatious manner our small party took its 
departure from Darjeeling on the roth of January. No one, 
not even Knight, knew exactly the route I should take, though 
I had already worked out the journey in great detail. I was 
able to follow this plan almost without alteration, except for 
several unforeseen stops en route, and slight deviations when 
the road became vague, or detours were necessary for some 
reason or other. 

The rough outline on p. 61 will show, with greater clearness 
than words, the line of march. : 


PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 61 


I was anxious to see both Shigatsé and Lhasa, the two great 
cities of Tibet, but it obviously would be better to visit Shigatsé 
first, as I intended to reveal my identity on arriving in Lhasa, 
after which I knew that further rambling about the country 
would not be permitted. 

The journey along the Pari-Gyangtsé road being out of the 
question, I decided to take the more direct, though more 
hazardous, route straight through the heart of Sikkim, march- 
ing due northward over the passes, entering Tibet proper near 
Kampa Dzong; the path would continue north through the 


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I. DOTTED LINE, ROUTE TAKEN BY FIRST EXPEDITION 


2. BLACK LINE, ROUTE TAKEN BY THE AUTHOR ON HIS SECOND JOURNEY, 
IN DISGUISE 


Tsang Province until Shigatsé were reached, and just beyond it 
the Brahmaputra River. After this, I had in mind to follow the 
Brahmaputra River on its downward course to the east, until 
we reached a point where we could again branch off to the 
north and proceed straight to Lhasa. It was on this stretch 
that I found eventually the marches could not proceed to plan, 
as will be explained later on. 

This is a little-known route occasionally used by petty 
Tibetan traders in preference to the main Pari-Gyangtsé- 


62 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Lhasa road, but it is supposed to be closed in winter, as the pass, 
18,000 feet high, or 4,000 feet higher than the Jelap-la, is as a 
rule completely blocked by snow except during the short mid- 
summer period. Provided, however, that we could force our 
way through this pass in the depth of winter, the official 
closure of the road would prove of great advantage, because, 
naturally, during this time the passes would not be so strictly 
watched. 

For the first day or two my path would coincide with a road 
leading to Pemayangtsé (Pamionchi), my ostensible goal, as I 
had allowed it to be generally understood, whick enabled me to 
make a semi-public departure from Darjeeling. On the actual 
day of my departure the usual irritating last-minute details 
cropped up, so that we could not get away until nearly eleven 
o’clock. Therefore I decided to go only as far as Manjitar, just 
over the Sikkim frontier, and there rest for the remainder of 
the day. 

All sorts of people were hanging around, and I arranged with 
Knight to have one of his servants sent after me with some 
trifling object which I had left behind, so that, as I was leaving, 
I might shout out to him to keep the article until we met in 
Pemayangtsé some two weeks or so later. I heard afterwards 
that this little bit of play-acting was the subject of gossip in the 
bazaar and succeeded in side-tracking all suspicions as to my 
real intentions. 

The whole of the first day our road lay straight downhill, and 
it was so steep that it was quite impossible to ride. In fact, 
the freshly-fallen rain made it more of a slide than a walk. 
Lhaten carried the cinematograph camera—always an awkward 
load—and once fell very heavily. I was afraid that the appara- 
tus was damaged, but after the tightening of a screw or two all 
seemed to be well. In the late afternoon we got to the bottom 
of the mountain and arrived at a bridge crossing the Rangit 
River, which marks the boundary between Sikkim and British 
India. On the other side of the bridge was the town and fron- 
tier station of Manjitar. Half-way across the bridge we were 
stopped and had to go through the troublesome business of 
presenting passes. One of the police officials was particularly 
anxious to know whether I had sent in my guarantee not to 
attempt to get from Sikkim into Nepal, Bhutan, or Tibet, but 





PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 63 


at this point I took-refuge in pretended stolid ignorance of 
Sikkimese and all other native tongues, and refused to under- 
stand a word. In the East, especially, ignorance is frequently 
more valuable than wisdom, so “ ’Tis folly to be wise.’’ In the 
end the official gave up the matter in despair. In this way I 
escaped having to commit myself to anything. I noticed, how- 
ever, that the police were much more vigilant than previously, 
and heard that Major Bailey, the Political Officer in Sikkim, 
was taking special precautions against any such attempt as 
mine., Had I given a guarantee not to pass over the Sikkim 
frontier into anv other state, or had been forced to admit that I 
had not entered irito a guarantee, I should have landed myself 
in,a pretty kettle of fish. It would have meant that I should be 
making my effort for nothing, for I should have had to renounce 
my desire to get to Lhasa, or even Shigatsé. 

Glad I was to get away from this ominous frontier station, 
and instead of resting in the village, I hastened my small cara- 
van through the place and beyond, camping that night in the 
open, half a mile from any habitation, at a suitable spot from 
where we were able to secure all necessary supplies. Besides 
water, the daily requisites were wood for fuel, bamboo leaves 
for animal fodder, milk for myself, and marwa beer for the ser- 
vants. The other food, such as meat, rice, eggs, and tea, we 
carried in stock, and only replenished from time to time. 
Generally speaking, in the inhabited parts of Sikkim all these 
things are easily procurable, but on the present journey 
Manjitar proved to be the only place where milk could be pur- 
chased, as nearly all the Sikkimese cows were affected by foot- 
and-mouth disease, and were either dead or incapable of giving 
milk. 

During these early days in Sikkim our camp routine was 
nearly always the same. First of all the tent was erected and 
I ensconced therein. A place was also found inside for 
‘‘ Satan,” Lhaten and the other three servants sleeping outside 
in the open. While the syce prepared the animals for the night, 
Lhaten and the others prepared the evening meal. Our cooking 
utensils consisted of two tin boilers, a frying-pan, and a teapot. 
The teapot and one of the boilers were communal property, for 
I ate the same rice and drank the same tea as the servants, save 
that, in accordance with Oriental etiquette, I had always to 


64 | TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


finish my share before the servants began theirs. The frying- 
pan was used exclusively for the scrambling of my eggs—my 
diet at this stage consisted at all meals of only scrambled eggs 
and rice. The remaining boiler was used to prepare the ser- 
vants’ stew—meat and greens finely chopped and then boiled 
together. 

For some unknown reason I have never been able to eat 
either boiled or chopped meat with any pleasure, so I contented 
myself with eggs; but I had so accustomed myself to eating 
with my fingers that even my eggs and rice I ate in Sikkimese 
or Indian fashion, and had brought neither fork nor spoon along 
with me in my meagre outfit. 

Food having been finished, the marwa beer was prepared and 
slowly drunk, to the accompaniment of the eternal chitter- 
chatter of Eastern servants. I occasionally sucked at a marwa 
pipe myself, though I preferred my milk, but always joined in 
the conversation in order to improve my dialect, as only Sikki- 
mese was spoken. And then, after about two hours of this sort 
of thing, to sleep. 

To return to the day-by-day narrative: the morning of 
January 11 we started on another short journey, the seven-mile 
ascent from Manjitar to Namtsé (Namchion the maps). Owing 
to the precipitous nature of the road and our consequent snail’s 
pace interspersed with halts, this took us five hours. As usual 
there was a marked change in the temperature between early 
morning and midday. We started muffled up in overocats, and 
ended on the doubtful side of modesty. Half-way up the 
climb we stopped at the village of Kyitam for tea and sugar-cane, 
while “‘ Satan'’’ called on a friend to renew a row over the 
payment of an old horse-deal. As usual the “ silent, unemo- 
tional ’’ Orientals managed to raise a terrific shindy, and the 
heat of their arguments brought together the whole of the 
villagers. The two combatants chased one another around 
the bazaar, uttering bloodcurdling threats, but the affair 
ended without bloodshed, for each one was too cowardly to risk 
a blow. 

When the entertainment thus provided had begun to pall 
upon me, I jerked the two apart, and sent “ Satan ” on ahead. 
Nothing was settled, of course, but then the matter had already 
run on for over three years, and undoubted settlement would 


PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 65 


have been attended with dissatisfaction, for whenever the two 
happened to be in the same neighbourhood they took the oppor- 
tunity to repeat to one another the old arguments, obtaining, 
I feel sure, a deal of satisfaction in the renewal of the ancient 
quarrel. 

We arrived in the Namtsé about noon, but the horses and 
mules were already tired, and we decided to halt for the day. 
In Tibet, with its great plains, a single stage is at least four- 
teen or fifteen miles, and one expects, if in good condition, to be 
able-to cover two stages a day, but the rugged nature of the 
Sikkim country renders such journeys impossible. Two miles 
an hour is a good”average, and ten miles a good day’s march, 
particularly if one has not a change of mounts. In the present 
instance I was particularly anxious to keep my animals fresh 
for the trying time we were sure to have in the passes. 

We pitched camp just above the bazaar, and as I was still 
travelling as a European we attracted a good deal of attention. 
In the afternoon the local Kazi, or Lord of the Manor, accompan- 
ied by his son, paidacall. During this time the Kazi and his son 
managed to consume the equivalent to a week’s rations of 
my tea and sugar. 

The Kazi, his household, and his immediate retainers were all 
pure Sikkimese of Tibetan origin, but the majority of the villa- 
gers, especially the bazaar-keepers, were Nepalese. This holds 
true of nearly all the villages of Sikkim. The Sikkimese, being 
Tibetans, are incurably lazy and lacking in the power of sus- 
tained application, so that the beelike immigrants from Nepal 
are steadily ousting them from all competitive positions, such 
as those of traders, coolies, and, to a certain extent, of agri- 
cultural labourers. It is only the fact that the lands are 
entailed in the families of the Sikkimese Kazis that prevents the 
Nepalese from becoming the landowners as well. At present 
the Sikkimese are becoming more and more the drones in their 
own country, and but for the power of the British Government, 
the Nepalese would not be prevented from invading the country 
and ousting the Sikkimese from their territorial rights. 

The next day January 12 we continued our ascent of the 
mountain until we came to the elevated plateau of Damtang. 
Twice on my way I was asked for my pass—a very unusual 
occurrence in the old days—which shows that the road to 

E : 


66 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Lhasa becomes every year more, instead of less, difficult 
Fortunately I was still within the bounds of the law, and so 
was able to proceed without further trouble. But these signs 
of interest in travelling parties augured ill for later events. 

It was on this day that I began my first active cinemato- 
graphy. As werose higher and higher on our way to Damtung 
we came upon a magnificent view of Kamchendzonga—far 
surpassing that which one gets from Darjeeling—and this I 
filmed. Kanchendzonga is the third highest mountain in the 
world, its summit being well over 28,000 feet above sea-bevel, 
and it is even more impressive to look at than Mount Everest, 
which is nearly a thousand feet higher. Its outlying ranges 
run, for the most part, north and south, and form a good portion 
of the boundary-line between Nepal and Sikkim. 

Kanchendzonga occupies a curiously-isolated position. It 
lies several miles south of the true Himalaya range, which tends 
to run in a general west to east line, so that from the Tibetan 
plateau Kanchendzonga forms no part of the magnificent 
Himalaya panorama. For this reason it is in some ways the 
most easily accessible of the major Himalaya mountains, but it 
will probably be a very long time before its ascent is made, 
since to the climber it presents far greater difficulties than does 
Mount Everest. It has already claimed its toll of human life, 
and every serious attempt to scale its summit has met with 
disaster. 

Kanchendzonga, which means the Great Glacier Treasure- 
house of the Five Precious Substances, is the object of great 
worship in Sikkim, and it plays an important part in Sikkimese 
Buddhism. Special ceremonies and sacred dances are held in 
its honour, some of them very old, dating from a long time 
prior to the introduction of Buddhism into Sikkim, and there 
are dark stories told that, in the olden days, these ceremonies 
were accompanied by human sacrifices made to the spirit of the 
mountain. 

Arrived in Damtang, we came to the parting of the ways. 
On the left a road led to the great monastery of Pemayangtsé, 
while on the right a road led to Gantok, the capital of Sikkim. 
Up to this time all my servants supposed that I was aiming for 
Pemayangtsé, but it was necessary for me here to follow for a 
bit the Gantok road. As I did not wish to reveal to my under- 





PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW ATTEMPT 67 


lings all of my plans; I informed them merely that, as Knight 
was not likely to get to Pemayangtsé for another ten days, I 
intended to take the road to the right and travel a few days 
seeing something of the unknown parts of Central Sikkim. 

Although our day’s journey was but half accomplished, the 
mules already showed signs of exhaustion, and we had great 
difficulty in getting them to go on. Whereupon the syce 
(groom) gave each of the animals a large bowl of strong tea, the 
usual Sikkimese expedient in such cases. To my surprise they 
drank this eagerly, and under its stimulus condescended to 
return to work. In fact, the senior mule, a female dubbed 
“Paris,” became so exhilarated that she tried to run away, 
and in her skittish attempt to imitate a playful kitten broke a 
box she was carrying containing our scanty provender. The 
precious provisions were carefully retrieved, to the accompani- 
ment of curses on Dame “ Paris.”’ 

Soon after turning to the right the road became a steep 
descent. As we stumbled down, and always down, we passed 
the villages of Temi and Tarko, from which, to the distant 
north, we could see the passes leading into Tibet, until eventu- 
ally we came near to the bottom of the valley, through which 
runs the Tista River. The pass which was our immediate goal 
lies very near to the source of the Tista, but it was a long and 
- arduous journey from the point on the river where we were to 
its source. 


CHAPTER VII 
FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER . 


WE continued our descent next day (January 13) down to 
the water’s edge, and then definitely departed from the road, 
turning to our left in order to follow the river-bed up to its 
source. The road itself crosses the river and goes on to Gantok, 
many miles beyond. From Gantok there is another road which 
returns to the Tista some twenty-five miles farther on, and then 
follows the river in its northerly course to the passes, so that 
ordinarily we should have gone on to Gantok and then come 
back to the Tista. But Gantok being the capital was 
inhabited by spies of the Tibetan Government. A visit there, 
consequently, was to be avoided at all costs, or Lhasa, my 
objective, could never be attained. Being compelled to leave 
the road we had now the problem of making a direct 
pathway for ourselves from our present point to the village of 
Drikchu, farther up the stream, where the road from Gantok 
rejoins the Tista. For the most part there was not even the 
pretence of a path, and for the rest there was a trail fit only for 
coolies passing in single file. It was quite impossible to use this 
trail for animals, especially when loaded; that is, impossible 
to use it in the condition in which we found it, as the pathway 
on either side was hemmed in by thick jungle growth. The 
journey of only some twenty-five miles was destined to occupy 
us for several days, as it was necessary for us to go ahead of the 
caravan, and with our huge knives of Nepalese and Bhutanese 
make, the only ones used in Tibet, cut away enough of the 
ferns, bamboo sprouts, and other wild vegetation to afford 
passage for our pack-animals. 

I am certain that the portion of the country we covered in 
this way is destined to be opened up eventually and through 

68 


FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER 69 


communication between India and Tibet ensuréd along this 
route. After cutting through the jungle for some miles, we 
came across, here and there, an isolated hut, and once or twice 
a tiny village almost dissociated from communication with the 
outer world. In many cases these were inhabited neither by 
Nepalese nor Sikkimese, but by the Lepchas, the original inhabi- 
tants of Sikkim, who were conquered by those invaders from 
Tibet who constitute the present so-called Sikkimese. These 
primitive Lepchas still continue to live an almost unaltered 
modé of existence in the more isolated portions of the country, 
such as the one through which we were travelling. The people 
do a little cultivation, and are expert fishers in the river pools. 
Sometimes they take the fish to market. Where cultivation is 
more extensive than usual, the peasants have trouble with the 
monkeys, and kill them wholesale with poison. The Lepchas 
appear to have no definite religion, though in their beliefs they 
recognise spirits of good and evil. As a general rule they 
practise monogamy, and they burn or bury their dead. A 
simple folk, they are a dying race without energy enough to 
carry on a strenuous fight for existence. 

In the daytime the heat was sweltering, and as the sweat 
poured down from our faces and bodies, especially when we 
were working at the cutting of the path, it seemed impossible 
to believe that in a short time—another week or ten days—we 
were destined to be among the glaciers we could see far away, 
and buried deep in snow. 

That first day in the wilds we halted at the tiny hamlet of 
Nampak, and I spent the rest of the day in studying the details 
of Lepcha life, as compared with that of the Sikkimese. A 
difficult task it proved to be, for the Lepchas have a language 
of their own utterly different from all other languages, and they 
understand almost no Sikkimese. They were frightened, too, 
at the sight of my Sikkimese servants, whom they considered 
to belong to the conquering race, and I had to get them alone 
before they would answer my questions. 

The next day (January 14) provided us with our most 
difficult march so far. Up to Nampak there had been vague 
suggestions of a trail, but beyond that there was nothing. 
Moreover, the ground became very rocky, strewn with giant 
boulders, and at one point we had a sheer slide of rock for 


70 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


40 feet, tipped at an angle of 50°. For us, of course, this 
presented no great difficulty, but we were forced to construct 
a sort of rope brake for the animals. As usual the mules kept 
a much firmer hold than the ponies, though at the last moment 
‘ Paris ”’ slipped and rolled over—an accident that very nearly 
cost her own life and that of “ Satan.” 

Up to this time we had kept to the left bank of the river, but 
it now became necessary to cross to the other side. This could 
only be done at a place called Shamdong, where there was a 
shaky bridge connecting two microscopic villages on éither 
side of the river. The Tista was still completely unfordable, 
owing to its swift current and to the rocks forming cataracts i 
its stream. : : 

I had no great love for villages, however, and preferred to 
camp in the open, even without our tent, under the natural 
arches of a beautiful grove about half a mile before reaching the 
bridge. By this time we had almost entirely broken away from 
the three-meals-a-day habit. In the morning, before starting, 
we consumed enormous quantities of strong tea, but had 
nothing to eat, and made the whole of our march on an empty 
stomach—such is Sikkimese custom. We halted about three, 
and it was four o’clock before our one and only meal of the 
day wasready. But what a meal this was! I have only a 
moderate appetite as a rule: the thought of having to consume 
three eggs at a sitting is enough to turn me away from even 
one. But here I was pushing down six, seven, and even eight 
eggs at a time, mixed in a heaped bowl of rice. The others 
ate to match. 

This development of healthy appetites necessitated the 
frequent replenishing of our larder, and later on in the evening 
I was forced to send *‘ Satan’ and Lhaten into the village to 
purchase supplies. By a curious coincidence one of Lhaten’s 
old friends had managed to find his way to the village on the 
other side of the river, being one of the men whom an enterpris- 
ing landlord imported into the wilderness in an effort to form a 
new community. This meeting resulted in a convivial evening 
for them, for the friend insisted on both servants remaining, 
and organized for them a drunken spree that lasted until dawn. 
They came reeling home just after I had got up and was trying 
to get started. 


ee 


a a a a as 


FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER at 


This was on the morning of January 15. I insisted on setting 
out immediately, so they had to buckle down to the day’s work 
without a moment of sleep. On the other side of the river, 
however, beyond the Shamdong village—one which is also 
called Manka—the road was very considerably improved, owing 
to the activities of this same landlord, who had tried to cut a path 
between his village and Drikchu, our immediate destination. 
Successive seasonal rains had washed much of it away, and the 
jungle undergrowth was sprouting again, but in places we could 
ever ride instead of having to walk ahead of the ponies and 
hew a way for them. 

On passing through the village I found another instance of 
the landlord’s progressiveness. In the market-place he had 
dug a well over which he had erected a stone covering. In 
one of the sides of this well-covering had been placed a stone- 
tablet inscribed in English with a eulogy of the landlord’s deeds 
and merits. No one in the village, of course, knew a word of 
English, and he himself was equally ignorant. I was, in fact, 
the only person who had ever come to the village who could 
read the tablet; but there, nevertheless, was the stone, 
imported at great expense from Calcutta, proclaiming to the 
wilds, with polysyllabic pomposity, the virtues and excellencies 
of the local magnate. 

Yet, absurd as this story may sound, one could not but feel 
that this local Cesar had made better use of his money than 
the plutocrats of Tibet. In spite of the great poverty of Tibet 
as a whole, the aristocratic families are enormously wealthy, 
but all of them make a display of their wealth in ways that 
are completely non-productive and ephemeral. A thousand 
pounds will be spent in providing butter fuel for the temple 
lamps. The cost of a single evening’s display of this kind is 
extraordinary, and the next day there is nothing to show for it. 
Temples and monasteries are allowed to fall into decay while 
money is poured out in entertaining the monks to sumptuous 
banquets. Even if the Sikkimese gentry are becoming enam- 
oured of seeing their own names inscribed on stone tablets, at 
least they must erect something enduring—a building, a well, 
or a bridge—to which the tablet shall be attached. The great 
poverty which strikes the eye in Tibet is the result not of the 
lack of money, but rather the misuse of it. 


92 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


To return to our own adventures, both “‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten 
started off in great spirits after their night’s debauch. “ Satan,” 
indeed, managed to get into a fight with a Nepalese boy we met 
on the way, and sent him flying for his life into the jungle. It 
always surprised me to find what terror the Sikkimese inspired 
in the Indians and Nepalese, excepting, of course, the Ghurkas. 
The Indians, though vastly superior to the Sikkimese and 
Tibetans in intelligence and industry, are easily bullied by any 
Sikkimese or Tibetan swashbuckler, though to a European both 
Sikkimese and Tibetans appear to be arrant cowards. ‘ 

Lhaten, to do him justice, had acquired such a hard head that 
he remained impervious to fatigue, in spite of his spree of the 
preceding night, but “‘ Satan ’”’ began to surrender to slumber 
shortly after the fight, when we had gone only two or three 
miles, and three times while riding fell so fast asleep that he 
rolled out of the saddle, the third time sliding gracelessly under 
his pony’s belly. 

The need to press on with the utmost speed caused me 
moments of acute anxiety. The weather had been fine for 
some time past, and I felt that, if we could only get to the pass 
before another snowstorm, we would have a chance to get 
through. Every moment’s delay was dangerous. But the 
last time “ Satan ”’ fell, which was after we had travelled only 
some seven miles, he was in such a stupor that it was with the 
greatest difficulty we could raise him. In the circumstances 
I thought it necessary to halt for the day, much as I disliked 
the idea of losing even a few hours. The short march did not 
seem to have decreased my appetite, and for our single meal I 
managed to consume a whole chicken and six eggs. The extra 
free time available on account of our early halt I determined 
to employ in getting ready with my disguise. So far I had been 
travelling as an Englishman, and there was no valid reason why 
I should not continue as such until we reached the passes, still 
several days away, except that I was very anxious now not to 
excite too much attention when passing through villages. A 
European in this locality is such a rare phenomenon that his 
existence would certainly be marked. If I were seen going up 
in the direction of the passes, and then failed to come back, 
rumours would quickly spread that I had entered Tibet. This 
I was most anxious to avoid. On the other hand, I did not 


a 


FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER 73 


wish to disguise myself definitely as yet, as it needlessly increased 
the chances of detection ; for though I was entitled to go as far 
as the passes, had any of the village officials discovered me 
travelling as a Tibetan they would certainly have stopped me 
until full inquiries had been made. 

After some mental gymnastics I decided on a compromise. 
I would henceforth keep away from all villages and only send 
in the servants for supplies. I should dress in Sikkimese 
costume and stain my hair, so that, should I be seen from a little 
distance away, I would appear as a native and hence excite 
nocomment. On the other hand, I would not dye my face nor 
darken my eyes, and would admit to being English in case 
anyone were to insist on coming into our camp and ask 
awkward questions. 

This preliminary masquerade did not seem to excite the 
suspicions of my servants, strangely enough, probably because 
they had always considered me half mad when in Gyangtsé. I 
had then frequently gone so far as to wear Tibetan costume, 
and they only thought that I was up to my old trick of studying 
natives by “ going native.’’ Up to this time the servants had 
always expected me at any moment to turn back and carry 
out the journey to Pemayangtsé, but that same afternoon I 
informed them that, as we had gone so far, I intended to go on 
to Lachen and see the very famous meditative lama there, and 
after having a metaphysical discussion with him, return to 
Pemayangtsé by way of Gantok. My real intentions they never 
fathomed, as they all knew that the passes were supposed to be 
closed, and though they had doubts of my sanity, their slow wits 
could not conceive that I even would be mad enough to attempt 
to push through. 

After I had finished staining my hair, I noticed that “ Satan ”’ 
continued to lie in his drunken stupor right out in the blazing 
sun, so I had two of the other coolies pick him up and throw 
him into the tent, as otherwise he would probably have had 
sunstroke and thus have added to our troubles. I have never 
seen a man so oblivious of the world, so literally dead drunk. 

The next morning (January 16) we were able to continue our 
northerly journey. After another four or five miles of unusu- 
ally bad road, we came to the village of Drikchu, where the road 
from Gantok to the passes once more joins the banks of the 


4 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Tista River. « For the time being our work of road-making was 
over, but we were once again on the Government highway and 
liable to be stopped. I was afraid that someone would hear 
that I was heading for the passes without having signed the 
guarantee, and was accordingly nervous. 

In accordance with my new plan I did not stop in Drikchu, 
but rushed on ahead, leaving the servants behind to buy provi- 
sions for the next few days. I had impressed upon them the 
necessity of saying nothing about me to the villagers, but 
merely to state, if asked, that we were a party going on pilyrim- 
age to Lachen. 

As I went on alone, another six or seven miles brought me to 
the curious, natural elevated plain of Akatang, where I decided 
we might camp for the night. So I waited for the servants to 
come up. The place was formerly the site of the village of 
Drikchu, but for certain political reasons the village has been 
moved several miles down the river. On the map, how- 
ever, the changed position is not noted. In several similar 
instances the Government of India maps of Sikkim are hope 
lessly incorrect. 

As regards this place, even after the village had been moved 
away, its former site continued to be frequented on account 
of certain natural hot springs to which are ascribed marvellous 
curative powers, but about two years previous to our visit 
a large landslide destroyed the springs. The people, being 
Sikkimese, never thought of digging them out again, and so 
the site is now completely deserted. 

This part of Sikkim is very sparsely inhabited, and is devoid 
of thriving villages such as one meets elsewhere. This is due to 
the absence of Nepalese and Indians, who are the foundation 
of Sikkim’s prosperity. When left to themselves the Sikkimese 
do not thrive, nor do they of their own accord develop the 
natural resources of their own country. The cause of the 
exclusion of Nepalese is curious. This part of Sikkim is domi- 
nated by the Pedang Monastery, the largest temple, after 
Pemayangtsé, in Sikkim. Its former abbot was a very power- 
ful person politically, being a past-master of intrigue. He 
inherited the Tibetan dislike of outsiders, and at the time, 
some forty-five years ago, when the Sikkimese Government, 
pressed by the English, was importing Nepalese as labourers, 


FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER 75 


he managed to secure a ruling that none of the new settlers were 
to be allowed to reside in that part of Sikkim which came under 
the influence of his own monastery. To his diplomatic success 
is due the economic failure of his province. 

The paucity of villages and the poverty of the few that we 
found along the line of march rendered it increasingly urgent 
to secure supplies without delay. Fortunately we were 
becoming expert in “ scrounging”’ from the country itself. 
The animals had for fodder the bamboo shoots which grew 
in abundance by the roadside, and the greens for the servants’ 
stew were supplied by three or four varieties of ferns which were 
always clogging our footsteps. In place of marwa beer or milk 
we had to be content with pure mountain-stream water. 

Eggs and fresh meat were scarce, but on this day we bought, 
from a party coming down from Lachen, some of the naturally- 
frozen meat of Tibet, which the Tibetan peasants eat raw (I 
was to become more than accustomed to it later), but which in 
Sikkim we cooked. I ate mine grilled, though it had always a 
nasty putrid flavour. The servants, as usual, chopped and 
boiled it along with the ferns. The natives of this part of the 
world have a prejudice against meat cooked in any way except 
by boiling. They believe that roasted or grilled meat impedes 
the breathing when climbing mountains. The same notion in 
regard to roasted meats obtains in Tibet, I found out later, the 
nomads in particular having a prejudice against meat cooked 
in any other way than boiling. 

The following day (January 17) only took us another ten miles 
along the road, and we camped between the two tiny hamlets 
of Singtam (called Singhik, for some reason, on the maps) and 
Tong. The semi-disguise turned out to be very successful, as 
we passed three or four persons on the road, and they did not 
turn around, as I expected, to stare, as they always do when 
a European appears. The road all the way was a gentle uphill 
incline, scarcely noticeable, but we were already 7,000 feet above 
sea-level and no longer felt the heat. In the best of weather 
we should have been cool, but to my dismay the spell of good 
weather was broken. It became cloudy and drizzly, and it 
was obvious that snow was falling on the mountain-tops. As 
we heard in Singtam that the snow already lay deep in the 
passes, my heart was in my boots. 


76 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


The country hereabouts showed signs of gradual decay. We 
passed several deserted houses rapidly crumbling away. 
Unlike those of Tibet, where stone and sun-dried brick are 
employed, the Sikkimese houses are for the most part con- 
structed entirely from bamboo. Under the best of circum- 
stances they last for only eight or nine years, after which they 
have to be rebuilt. | 

On this particular day we had great difficulty in selecting a 
camping-ground, especially as I was anxious to keep well away 
from villages and out of sight, while at the same time in touch 
with the road. Eventually we decided on a leaf-filled grotto. 
The selection of this seemingly satisfactory den resulted in a 
very unpleasant experience. We woke up in the night to find 
our bodies covered with leeches which were already half gorged. 
In the summer leeches constitute one of the scourges of Sikkim, 
but in the winter, owing to the great night cold, they are seldom 
seen. These had been hibernating under the bed of leaves and 
had been reawakened into activity by the heat of our bodies. 

Unfortunately, they attach themselves to the skin without 
causing the slightest pain—the pain of an open wound which 
refuses to heal comes later—so that all of us were drained of a 
good deal of blood before sufficient sensation had been created 
to awaken us. My previous experience had taught me that 
to attempt to pull leeches off makes matters worse, so we 
resorted to the only expedient known, and applied wet salt to 
the loathsome creatures, whereupon they immediately dropped 
off. Even after this the pain of the sores and the fear of 
further invasion kept us awake nearly the whole night. 

There are several kinds of leeches found in Sikkim, which 
occur in all parts up to 10,000 feet altitude. In the higher 
elevations a voracious black species is common, smaller than 
the yellowish-brown creature which abounds lower down. 
Their activities are one of the worst nuisances travellers have 
to contend with: their appetites for blood of man or beast are 
insatiable, and they will attack in such numbers and gorge 
so much blood that serious loss of strength may result. In 
summer, travellers have noticed that, with an extraordinary 
instinct, these vile pests, on the approach of any living creature 
in their neighbourhood, will deliberately make for it from some 
distance. Ordinary clothing is no obstacle to them, for they 


eS 


FROM JUNGLE TO GLACIER 77 


will suck right through trousers or thick stocking’. Watching 
them at work, one can see the blood they draw dilating their 
skins ; when full they drop off and roll up into balls. The sores 
which result from dealing carelessly with leeches which have 
attached themselves to the body are very obstinate, and unless 
given close attention may lead to blood-poisoning or other ills. 
Poor animals when attacked have little means of getting rid of 
the blood-suckers, and we had to be very careful about our 
mules and ponies. 

The next day (January 18) was to be a long march, and so, 
for a change, we had something to eat with our tea before we 
started. At sunrisé we saw the beautiful sight of snow falling 
_on the top of the Kanchendzonga range. This mountain is such 
an important part of the western horizon of so many parts of 
Sikkim that there is little wonder it is regarded as the guardian 
spirit of the country. 

The road was good and interesting, but already we began 
to see something of the treeless mountains which characterize 
Tibet. Insomecases trees have been planted along the road- 
side by the Sikkimese Government. We found later that the 
timber-line on the north, or Tibetan side, of the mountains was 
much lower than on the south. On the approach through 
Sikkim there was quite a lot of timber at 14,000 feet elevation, 
which gradually changed from deciduous to evergreens, the trees 
between this height and 16,000 feet growing scantier and more 
stunted till they disappeared entirely. On the other side of 
the passes we had to descend much lower before we met any 
very definite signs of vegetation, and what there was seemed 
half-hearted in growth. 

Half-way along the line of our day’s march we crossed again 
to the left-hand side of the river by a tiny but quite respectable 
suspension bridge. A little farther along we could see an old 
Sikkim-fashion bridge. Such a bridge consists of only three 
long bamboo poles, one for a footing, and two higher in the air 
for handrails. It requires a tight-rope walker to cross one with 
any ease, and, of course, it is quite useless for animals. 

I was more than ever struck by the absence of the industrious 
Nepalese, and the few people we did meet were for the most 
part Lepchas and not Sikkimese. In the afternoon we camped 
in a charming little dell, invisible from the road, about a mile 


78 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


from the well-known village of Tséntang (called Cheuntang on 
the maps), tg the dismay of Lhaten, who yearned for the marwa 
beer procurable only in the villages. He could not understand 
my aversion from staying in an inhabited spot. 

We fell to arguing on the subject, and while we were still 
forcibly discussing the point, we heard a mystifying noise in 
the surrounding bushes. Thoughts of spies and secret agents 
were chasing through my head, when to our astonishment a cow 
appeared in our camp circle, stood for an instant breathing 
heavily, and then fell dead. She was frothing horribly at the 
mouth, and further investigation showed that she had all the 
other symptoms of the last stages of the dréad foot-and-mouth 
disease. Evidently she had been left behind by some herds- 
man owing to her illness, and on hearing our voices, she had 
come in a last spasm hoping to receive human assistance—a 
pathetic reminder of man’s dominance over brute creation. 

The servants were anxious to eat the corpse, but this I 
forbade, so we spent some time in carting our would- be friend 
away from our night’s abode. 


CHAPTER VIII 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 


2 


WE started very early next morning (January 19) as I was 
anxious to pass through the village and Government outpost 
of Tséntang before it was really light. I knew that a register 
was kept of all persons who passed through, and I was anxious 
to avoid having to sign this. To escape attention was rather 
a difficult task, as the road lay right through the village. I 
had everything well muffled up and prayed to all the gods of 
Hindustan that “ Paris ’’ would not begin kicking and generally 
“ showing off’ at the wrong moment. 

All went well, however, and we got through without being 
challenged, though I heard later that after it was known that I 
had managed to enter Tibet, the local police officers were 
brought down to Gantok, court-martialled, and ignominiously 
dismissed from the service, owing to their failure to stop me. 

Immediately before coming to the village, we passed over the 
river again at a place very famous historically. Just under the 
bridge the waters of the river churn and boil in a series of rapids. 
Until a short time ago, prisoners were thrown over the bridge 
to perish in the turmoil below, and the peasants claim to hear 
still, in the moaning of the waters, the shrieks of the drowning 
men. 

Although politically Sikkim at present extends several miles 
north of Tsontang, in every other way this village marks the 

_boundary-line. North of it, for the next fifty miles, lies what 
is known as the pass country, consisting of gigantic mountains 
with a few narrow valleys forming passes leading to Tibet. It 
is, in fact, a transition land between Tibet and Sikkim, with a 
geography akin to neither. Its inhabitants also form a people 


79 


80 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


apart, differ.ng both from the Tibetans to the north and the 
Sikkimese to the south. They are known as La-pa, or men of 
the passes, speaking their own dialect and observing their own 
customs. For the most part they are herdsmen living from the 
produce of their herds of cattle and yaks—the latter an animal 
unknown in Sikkim proper. In common with the Tibetans, 
they prefer barley to rice. Neither rice nor barley will grow 
here, but the people find it easier to import barley from Tibet 
than rice from Sikkim. 

At Tséntang the Tista River breaks up into branches, On 
the right it becomes the Lachung, or the River of the Little 
Pass, and on the left it becomes the Lacherf, or the River of the 
Great Pass. These two river valleys constitute the habitable 
portion of the pass country, but as lofty mountains permanently 
separate the two systems, the people of the two valleys, though 
both La-pas, differ considerably one from another. Each valley 
possesses but one village of importance, called respectively 
Lachung and Lachen. 

It suited my purpose much better to follow up the Lachen 
Valley, and so we turned to the left and continued our march 
until late in the afternoon, steadily rising all the time. For 
the most part the valley was very narrow, and once a single 
wooden gate barred the way. This was erected to prevent 
the Lachen Valley cattle wandering down into Sikkim—the 
only fence needed to wall in a district more than fifty miles 
long. 

Soon we began to get a foretaste of conditions we might 
expect in the pass country. Patches of ice and snow crossed 
our path and made progress more difficult. In places the road 
itself was encrusted for long distances with frozen snow a foot 
deep—a very slippery footing; so we had to dismount and 
walk. Beautiful scenery abounded. Every twist in the 
valley brought a new surprise, but the road was tiring, and 
we were glad to camp at last about half a mile before the 
village of Lachen, where we had to spread our tent on the 
snow. 

Though the rest was very necessary, I was very anxious to 
push on, as the weather was more than ever threatening. 
Though the passes might be impassable even now, they would 
certainly be so after another storm, and the next morning 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 8 


(January 20) I was much annoyed to find it was impossible to 
make any move that day. The animals were exhausted and 
needed a day’s respite. Our boxes were broken and needed to 
be repaired. Our provisions were completely exhausted, and 
it would be days before we could reach another village, that 
which lay on the other side of the passes, in Tibet, so it became 
necessary to lay in a supply of food at Lachen, and all this work 
would require time. It was all very exasperating, and further, 


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THE ROUTE THROUGH SIKKIM UP INTO THE PASS COUNTRY 


it now became necessary for me to inform the servants of my 
intention to go on to the pass itself. They were still under the 
impression that Lachen was my destination, and a talk with the 
old lama my goal. I dared not mention anything about Lhasa 
as yet, but determined to inform them that I wanted to go as 
far as Kampa Dzong, just inside of Tibet. When I called them 
round and explained my desire, they were horrorstruck at the 
idea of pushing on, and kept repeating that the passes were 
completely blocked. I insisted that we go on for a bit, and 
then turn back if necessary. The servants looked on the 
F 


82 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


prospect in anone too friendly way, but eventually, after some 
persuasion, consented to go forward, though they tried to 
insist that I make a substantial money-offering to the Lachen 
lama and solicit his indulgence to keep back the snow. 

All the natives of this part of the world firmly believe that a 
life of ascetic contemplation ,brings with it magical powers, 
including the ability to control the elements. The Lachen lama 
is particularly famous all over Sikkim for his regulation of rain 
and snow. Even villages in the south, dominated by other 
temples, send petitions to him with huge gifts, asking that rain 
be stopped or made to fall, as is desirable. 

When they brought forth their stipulati6h, which did not at 
all accord with my desires, I told the servants that in a case 
like this I was keen on getting value for my money. If I was 
to pay the money, I wished to be certain that no snow would 
fall, and as no guarantee would be forthcoming, this could only 
be assured by paying the lama afterwards, when we saw what 
the weather turned out to be as the result of his devotions. 
With this they had to be content. 

The early afternoon was destined to give us another fright. 
The animals had been left to graze at will on the patches of 
earth still free from snow. We later discovered them lathering 
at the mouth like our friend the cow of the previous day. It 
seems that they had been eating a poisonous weed which grows 
in the pass country, and which constitutes the bane of the 
native herdsmen. The herb is known as duk-shing, and is 
more prevalent in some valleys than others and is deadly to 
yaks and sheep. Such places where it is more common the 
herdsmen generally avoid. My servants assured me cheer- 
fully that, unless something was done quickly, the effect on our 
pack-animals would be fatal, but suggested that I give the 
beasts my little hoard of sugar, as it was supposed to act as an 
antidote. Very sadly I handed over the sugar-bag, for though 
I was sceptical of its curative powers, I could not afford to run 
any risks. At least the creatures did not grow any worse as 
the result of this novel medicine, and when they did later drop 
off one by one, it was as a result chiefly of exhaustion. 

I then sent the servants into Lachen to buy supplies, but 
impressed upon them the necessity for keeping absolute silence 
in regard to me and my movements. Had they followed out 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 83 


my orders the course of subsequent events would have been very 
different, but on their return I found, first that no»sugar could 
be found in Lachen, which meant months of discomfort for 
one with a “ sweet tooth,” as the Tibetans eat no sugar in any 
form, and it would be impossible to buy any in Tibet; and 
- second (and more important), that “Satan”? had met an old 
bosom friend from Pemayangtsé, to whom, under the seal of 
secrecy, he had confided who I was, and the fact that we were 
bound for the Tibetan passes. 

I became livid with fury at hearing this; I knew enough 
about the Oriental manner of keeping secrets to be convinced 
that in no time the matter would become public property, that 
all my precautions for secrecy in Sikkim had been in vain, and 
that in a few weeks’ time, at the outside, the news of my stay 
in Lachen would leak down to Gantok, the capital of Sikkim, 
where there are numerous agents of the Tibetan Government, 
who would doubtless communicate to Lhasa the news of my 
suspicious movements. 

I was so upset at the news that I refused to eat anything, 
and had a twenty-four hours’ fast—a “tantrum” habit 
inherited from nursery days. Furthermore, I ordered a start 
to be made very early the next morning before people were 
about, lest the news should have already leaked out and a local 
official arrive at our camp and order us to remain there pending 
inquiry. 

It was, in all ways, a disagreeable day, but-it had enabled 
us to put our things in order and prepare ourselves for possible 
calamities later on, a fact which was destined, as events turned 
out, to save our lives. 

To make things even more dismal, the next morning (Jan. 21) 
saw the beginning of a wretched, misty day, with every now 
and then a few flakes of snow. It was obvious that a snow- 
storm was impending, and my one hope was that we should be 
over the pass before it came on. Once on the tableland of 
Tibet, I cared not a straw for snow, but that promised land 
lay beyond the mountains which loomed threateningly before 
us. The mules had recovered from the poison-herb troubles 
of the previous day, but the ponies still seemed to be very 
shaky, so we had to walk the whole day in the desire to give 
them a further recuperative period. 


84 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


On the way we had to plough a path through a good deal of 
snowdrift, so that our progress was very slow, but by early 
afternoon we were some twelve miles above Lachen, and had 
risen to a height of 12,000 feet above sea-level. This, I have 
learned by experience, is the critical height. It is very seldom 
that a healthy person gets mountain-sickness under that height, 
but once that level is reached he may begin to suffer, and 
further ascent may prove dangerous. If, on the other hand, 
having risen so far he experiences no pain, he need have no 
fear of going on to 20,000 feet. He is, in fact, practically 
immune. 

I was therefore interested to note that*it was just at this 
point that ‘‘ Satan ’”’ began to complain of racking headache 
and ringing in the ears. But he was the only one to suffer, and 
after I had given him a few cloves to chew he began to feel 
better. The others and myself felt nothing more than the 
exertion of the climb. 

Another two miles brought us past Tangu, the last village in 
Sikkim, and even this is a village in name rather than in fact. 
There are a few La-pa huts inhabited only in summer; in 
winter it contains only two petty officials who serve as outpost 
guardians, and as keepers of the Government rest-houses. By 
departing from the road I managed to get my little caravan 
past this point unobserved, and heaved a sigh of relief, think- 
ing my troubles were over—but we were not yet out of the 
woods. 

Still another two miles brought us to a point, where, for a 
quarter of a mile, the road and the whole hillside was a smooth 
sheet of ice, upon which, at first, we found it impossible to walk. 
The animals had even more trouble, and slithered all over the 
place. Our loads suffered serious damage in the frequent falls. 
To add to the confusion, the servants lost their heads completely 
and began shrieking contradictory orders to one another. Two 
of them, ‘‘Satan’”’ and ‘“‘ Diogenes,’’ improved matters by 
weeping. 

I had to take a strong hand in matters myself before some sort 
of order was restored, and we then began to throw gravel on the 
glacial surface and cut out occasional steps in the ice with our 
knives, the same knives we had used in the jungle a few days 
previously. By these methods we got our caravan across, but 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 85 


this one job had taken an hour, and we were all ‘so exhausted 
that we had to camp almost immediately afterwards. 

In the meantime “ Gyangtsé,”’ Lhaten’s pony, a time-worn 
nag, showed signs of succumbing. He leaned in a very disso- 
lute fashion against a tree (there were still a few trees about) 
and refused to eat or drink. Under such circumstances the 
Sikkimese always resort to some new concoction, and so we 
brewed strong tea and added to it a half-bottle of raw spirit 
which Lhaten had purchased in Lachen. The major portion 
of this we managed to pour down the poor pony’s throat, 
though not without a struggle, for he marshalled all his waning 
strength in an attefhpt to hunger-strike, for evidently he had 
strong convictions on the question of forcible feeding. In the 
end he managed to break our one and only bottle with which 
we had been feeding him. Temporarily he revived, but I felt 
that sooner or later we should no longer have the pleasure of 
his company. 

By this time we were so fatigued that we no longer had 
strength or energy enough to put our camp in order. Rather 
than have the trouble of hoisting the tent, I decided to sleep in 
the open. The servants picked a spot under a tree, one of the 
sparse sentinels of the timber-line, while I preferred to be 
without such protection. Our bags and boxes, moreover, were 
left scattered about, but we were quite satisfied with our day’s 
efforts and too tired to worry about orderliness. Despite the 
weather conditions, we soon fell asleep when we lay ourselves 
down on the ground. 

It is not difficult to imagine the horror which I felt a couple 
of hours later when I woke from a doze to find that snow was 
beginning to fall. Obviously there was nothing to be done, and 
I could only hope that this was merely the result of a passing 
cloud and not the beginning of a serious snowstorm. I was 
soon undeceived. The snow began to settle over me inch by 
inch. In a way it was a delicious feeling, because it had been 
bitterly cold and the new snow acted as a gradually-thickening 
blanket. Consequently I felt not the slightest inclination to 
get up and seek protection under the tree. Only, in order to 
keep a supply of air, I occasionally thrust a tiny hole through 
the snow above me with my riding-crop. The snow fell 
continuously, but the servants, somewhat under cover, 


86 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


remained asibep the whole night through, but early the next 
morning (January 22) when they awoke and perceived the snow 
for the first time, they began to yell with dismay, thinking them- 
selves for ever lost. Their scare was doubled when they failed 
to see me, for by this time I was quite hidden from sight by 
more than three feet of snow, and there was no sign to show 
where I lay. The servants thought, of course, that I had been 
smothered to death. I let them howl for a while without 
moving, for I dreaded to leave the protection of my warm 
natural blanket, but eventually I sat up, the top of myshead 
just appearing above the snow. This seemed to them to savour 
of the miraculous, and something of their ffight abated, and for 
a while I was something of a tin-god to them. 
We were able to discuss seriously what next was to be adie 
and rather glad we were still to be alive. It would have been 
death to push on for the moment. The snow was falling 
faster and faster, and it was certain to lie much deeper higher 
up in the mountain gullies. There was no hut or village this 
side of the pass in which we could take refuge. To stay on 
where we were was equally out of the question. In fact, the 
delay of another hour appeared dangerous. It was difficult to 
get back even now, and with more snow to contend with it 
would be quite impossible. Being unable either to go forward 
or to go back, we should perish miserably in our present 
position ! 

It was therefore our obvious duty to fight our way back 
immediately, but owing to the increasing difficulty caused by 
the snow, it was inconceivable that we could get to Lachen in 
one day. The servants thought that we would be lucky to 
get back to Tangu, where we could throw ourselves on the 
mercies of the two officials there. 

Tangu was, however, absolutely taboo, as I knew that once 
we stopped there our chances of getting to Lhasa would be 
gone for ever. But I remembered that between Tangu and 
Lachen there were one or two groups of cattle-sheds, or huts, 
used by the herdsmen only in the summer when their cattle were 
brought up thus far to graze. These huts were deserted now, 
of course, but we could probably break into one of them and 
find there some kind of shelter in which we could await further 
developments, 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 87 


The nearest such shelter lay six miles back, and’I gave orders 
to make for it immediately. It was hard work to make headway 
through three feet or more of freshly-fallen snow, particularly 
as the path had been completely obliterated. It took us all day 
to cover the six miles, but the sense of danger and the urgent 
need of finding shelter made us oblivious to the feeling of 
fatigue, though I had a little difficulty in getting the servants 
past Tangu. The snow was falling so heavily that we could 
scarcely see a yard in front of us. Consequently there was 
no longer need for concealment when we passed that 
outpost. 

In the afternoon,curiously enough, ‘‘ Satan ”’ began to suffer 
from snow-blindness. It is well known that freshly-fallen snow 
is much more irritating to the eyes than snow which has lain 
for some time, but it is rare to find snow-blindness coming on 
during a snowstorm. It is usually only the reflection of the 
sun’s rays on the eye that brings about injury to the eyesight, 
and the sun was then completely invisible. “‘ Satan’ had, 
foolishly enough, forgotten to bring his dark glasses, and I was 
forced to lend him mine, and contented myself with pulling my 
fur cap down over my eyes. In other ways, also, I was feeling 
far from well, and in fact was experiencing the first symptoms 
of that illness which was later to develop into dysentery. The 
result of eating Tibetan meat was already beginning to be felt. 
We were all, therefore, delighted when we got to our destination 
late in the afternoon. | 

The door of the first hut we tried yielded to a push, and we 
found ourselves inside its one and only room. The hut was 
built on American log-cabin lines, except that there was a great 
- smoke-hole in the roof. There were huge chinks between the 
logs of the walls, and these let in a good deal of snow, and the 
wind played in and out as it listed. Our abode was far from 
ideal, as can be imagined, but we were more than satisfied, 
particularly as we found inside two or three pieces of dry wood 
which could be used to kindle a fire. But while unloading the 
animals I was annoyed to discover that in their morning’s fright 
the servants had been unable to find several of the smaller 
packages which we had foolishly left scattered about the 
preceding night, and which, of course, had been covered by the 
snow | | 


88 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


The next ‘morning (January 23) we held a council of war. 
Though the weather had improved, a little snow was still falling 
and it was impossible for us to attempt to get to the passes. I 
was anxious to stay where we were. But the horses were 
without fodder, and there was still danger that we might be 
snowbound for an indefinite period, during which time the 
chances were that the animals, and possibly we ourselves, 
would die from starvation. The servants were clamorous to 
retire, and at last I agreed to do so, though secretly I determined 
to put as many brakes on our backward journey as possible. 
I still had faint hopes, which I dared not express, that 
once the snow stopped we might be abk to force our way 
through to Tibet. 

The rearward march proved terribly exhausting. By the 
time we were on the way the snow was breast-high, and each 
of us had to take it in turn to act as a plough to make a furrow 
through the snow in which the animals might follow, for they 
were helpless otherwise. Fortunately all of them, even the 
invalid pony, seemed to be in fairly good condition to-day. 
When after three miles we came to another group of deserted 
huts, we were, as my diary has it, “‘ almost dead from fatigue,” 
so that I had little difficulty in persuading the servants to go no 
farther for the day. It was a wearying business. With every 
step on this retreat my hopes drooped a little lower, and I think | 
only a natural obstinacy held me up under this dispiriting 
reverse. The night’s repose stiffened me in my purpose, and 
next day (January 24) our march had only covered a little over 
a mile when I purposely went on strike and refused to travel 
another inch farther. For here we found another couple of 
huts, and I remembered that there were no more until we got 
to Lachen, still some six or seven miles farther back. I knew 
that we must avoid returning to Lachen at all costs. 

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining brilliantly and 
the snow was already beginning to melt. Moreover, a curious 
bend in the valley had sheltered a little patch on the hillside 
where it was almost free from snow. Here the animals could 
get a few mouthfuls of coarse winter grass. This solved the 
fodder question temporarily. Our own food-store was running 
dangerously low, but we had enough to last us a few days 
longer, so I decided to form a little winter-camp and wait for a 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 89 


new opportunity to push on to the pass. Under ordinary 
circumstances I should have returned to Sikkim,and waited 
another two months before renewing our attempt to enter 
Tibet, but I was convinced it was now or never, and preferred 
to hang on desperately. 

From the afternoon of the 24th to the afternoon of the 26th 
we stayed in our little camp on the spot. Personally I enjoyed 
this short time of rest, but I was careful to arrange little jobs for 
the servants, for their morale would have been completely 
destroyed in a few hours’ idle brooding. Fortunately we were 
entertained in a very unexpected fashion. A huge cat began 
to prowl round ourvhut and disturb us by its noises. It was 
in looks and manner much more like a wild-cat than one of a 
domestic breed. It had started its life probably as a kitten in 
some herdsman’s house, and then, being deserted, had “‘ reverted 
to type.’”’ The deep snow had destroyed his food-supply, so 
sniffing our presence he had decided to blackmail us into giving 
him free board and lodging. 

We did, indeed, bestow a small piece of meat, but when we 
ourselves were so near starvation, it was impossible to be over- 
generous. He waxed angry at our miserliness, and began a 
vigorous physical attack on our larder, and later on us, which 
we had to repulse with our riding-crops. After a fierce battle 
lasting for half an hour the cat retired—though not until we 
bore marks of the fray in the way of scratches so serious 
that they required first-aid attention. During the remainder 
of our stay the cat continued on in the neighbourhood and 
gave a full solo rendering of what he thought of us. 

On the 26th I decided to go forward again. The snow had 
been melting steadily in our part of the valley. Ina very high 
altitude such as this, where the air is rarefied, the sun’s rays 
during the daytime have an overpowering effect, however cold 
the nights may be, and under these scorching rays the snow 
had begun to shrink and, though still deep, I thought we had a 
chance to get through. The food question was becoming so 
pressing that no further delay was to be brooked. A move had 
to be made one way or the other, but we only got off in the 
afternoon, as I had to spend the whole morning coaxing and 
persuading the servants into accompanying me, sometimes 
even bullying them. It frequently happened that bullying was 


90 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the best policy with these men, for they took coaxing as a sign 
of weakness and became awkward and obstinate. 

Owing to the late start, we were able to cover only four miles. 
This brought us to the hut in which we had first taken refuge 
after the commencement of the snowstorm. Soon after arriving 
we saw a snow-leopard prowling about, and this so frightened 
the animals that ‘‘ Diogenes ”’ had to sleep outside with them to 
act as guard. 

It is extraordinary how these animals can walk over the snow 
without sinking intoit. The natives explain this peculiarity by 
giving the snow-leopards supernatural powers. 

The next day (January 27) was, to quotemy diary, ‘‘ the most 
awful day I have ever spent.’”’ The memory of the miseries 
we had to endure remains very keen. Owing to the more 
protected’ nature of this part of the valley, we found that the 
snow had hardly melted at all, and for a great part of the way 
it lay between four and five feet deep. The farther we 
went the deeper we sank. Soon after this the valley began 
to narrow down to a gorge which was literally choked with 
snow. 

For me the desperate ploughing through the snow was 
absolute misery. My illness had been growing worse these last 
two days, and had sapped me of all strength. I was afraid to 
show my weakness before the servants, and so sent on my 
caravan ahead while I staggered along after it. Every fifty 
yards or so I would get quite confused in the snow and fall. 
Where I fell I was forced to lie and rest for a minute or two before 
I could summon my energies to struggle up and press on. Fear 
overtook me that I was being left miles behind, but afterwards 
I found that the servants were faring nearly as badly. 
Blundering on in my anxiety, I caught up with the party at 
sunset and we ploughed on for another two hours, not in the 
least knowing where we were, for the road lay deep-buried in 
snow and we had only the general contour of the valley by 
which to go. The vagueness of our position and direction 
demoralized the whole caravan, and the animals seemed to be 
as much in a maze as the men. 

Frequently we thought that we were on safe ground, when 
suddenly the man ahead would disappear from sight down some 
gully or water-hole rendered invisible by the snow. We had 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES or 


used up all our spirits in a vain attempt to secure extra stimula- 
tion, but by half-past eight we were still far from oyr objective, 
the plateau of Sitang. Our day’s march had been only some 
eight or nine miles, but it had taken us over fourteen hours to 
cover even this distance. We were lost. Our strength was 
failing and our hearts were in our boots. Where the roadway 
might be we had not the faintest idea, and we were wallowing 
in a long snowdrift. It was pitch-dark although the moon 
should have been visible. Suddenly, while we were in this 
statey it began to snow again. I was long past all feeling by 
now, but Lhaten broke down and wept. Later his weeping 
changed into hysterical sobbing which could not be stopped. 
The others were bordering on the same state. 

It was absolutely impossible to go any farther that night, so I 
looked about for shelter. We had long passed the region of 
houses or huts, but what was even more serious, I could see no 
place where we could possibly erect a tent. Hunting around, 
we espied among the great rocks overhanging the river one 
with a flat top from which most of the snow had been driven 
by the wind, and it was upon this that we decided to hoist 
our tent, for under such conditions to have slept in the open 
would have meant certain death. 

In our exhausted condition the work of hoisting the tent 
required an effort of will. Snow and wind beat against us and 
nearly caused a catastrophe even before we had erected the 
canvas, which we had to hold down by placing boxes on its 
sides and ends, for of course the rock was impervious to tent- 
pegs. Into this small tent all five of us had to squeeze, although 
it was meant for only one person, or at the most for two. For 
the animals a hole was burrowed in the snow by the side of the 
rock. There was nothing else we could do for them, but we 
were afraid that they would be frozen to death during the night. 

I deemed it fortunate for our food-supply that we were too 
tired to feel hungry, and were content with a small piece of meat 
apiece. This we had to eat raw in true Tibetan fashion, for we 
had no means of lighting a fire. 

An hour later the wind dropped, but the short comparative 
calm was succeeded by one of the terrific windstorms which are 
known only in Tibet and in the passes. In a very short time 
the tent had been blown in on us, and we lay huddled together 


92 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


in one tightsheap, with the canvas beating on our heads. Still 
the gale increased, and at last one terrific blast carried our whole 
huddled mass off the rock and into the snow beyond, where 
we all landed badly frightened but unhurt. “ Satan” now 
suddenly remembered that he had been brought up a priest, and 
began a long invocation to all the Tibetan saints, being particu- 
larly vociferous in his appeal to the polygamous, wine-bibbing 
Padma Sambhava, dead these thousand years and more. He 
confessed, among other things, how foolish he had been to 
come with me, and asked pardon therefor. . 

The wind eventually died down about three in the morning, 
and until then sleep was impossible. “Satan” kept up his 
lugubrious prayers till, with the decline of the storm, immediate 
annihilation seemed averted, then he fell into a doze like the 
rest of the worn-out and apprehensive party. 

When I woke again a few hours later (January 28) I found 
the servants were already packing up. They were firmly 
minded to dash back to Sikkim. They took it for granted that 
even I could not possibly want to go on. And I must confess 
that they were very nearly right. All my fine hopes had evapo- 
rated, and had I been asked for my vote on the subject it would 
have been cast in favour of return. But this cool assumption 
that I had abandoned the enterprise was too much for me. 
Fearing that argument would be useless, I rushed for the food- 
bag, already nearly empty, and holding it over the great river 
ravine, I swore that if they went back I would throw their food 
away, which meant that they would starve before they could 
arrive once more at the inhabited part of Sikkim. I then 


pointed out that they were more than half-way through the © 


snow, and that to turn back would be as difficult as to go on. 
Letting this argument sink in, I rushed on as fast as I could, 
leaving them to follow. The strategy had effect ; they came 
sheepishly after me. When I say I rushed on, it must not be 
imagined it was with any great speed, for the snow was deeper 
and more clogging and troublesome than ever. 

We had a very curious bit of luck that morning. Our friend 
the snow-leopard had passed us in the night and seemed to be 
heading for the pass, for we could see his footprints in the snow. 
There seemed to be a striking regularity about his path, and it 
occurred to me that he might be travelling over the line of the 


Bn tm —— 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 93 


road. Investigation proved that this idea was ¢orrect. By 
following in his footsteps we saved ourselves a good deal of 
road-seeking. It was amazing to me how the leopard knew the 
road, buried as it was beneath several feet of snow, and, of 
course, level with the wide white expanse on every side. I 
could only suppose that it was by means of a sense of smell, 
effective through the deep snow, though why he should have 
kept to the road with all its zig-zags, when he could easily 
have made cross-cuts impossible for us, was a mystery which I 
did not attempt to solve. 

The servants looked upon the footprints as a very auspicious 
omen, or even as a iniraculous intervention on the part of the 
blessed Buddhas and Bodhisattvas—a notion that I was careful 
not to contradict. 

About four hours later we had an even greater stroke of 
fortune. The valley continued to narrow more and more. 
The mountains on either side closed down to form precipitous 
cliffs, and it seemed as if we were crawling through a funnel. 
When the snow was at its deepest and further progress seemed 
impossible, the valley suddenly twisted and once more widened 
out, and we came into an entirely different type of country. It 
seemed as if some ghostly wizard had waved.his magic wand 
and a mysterious transformation had taken place. 

Not a tree, bush, nor scrub was visible. There were only 
three or four inches of snow on the ground, and here and there 
were great patches of bare earth, earth of that sandy and 
desolate kind peculiar to the Tibetan plateau. A few miles 
farther on and the valley swept to the right and became a broad 
plain running in an east to west direction, bounded on the north 
and south by overshadowing mountain ranges. Technically 
we were still in Sikkim: the northern range of mountains 
marked the political boundary-line. But geographically and 
geologically we were already in Tibet. The scarcity of 
the snow was an evidence of this. The Indian side of the 
Himalayas is deluged by rain in the summer and by snow in 
the winter. The rain- and the snow-bearing clouds wafted from 
the ocean do not rise high enough to cross the Himalayan 
heights against which they break and precipitate their contents, 
so that on the Tibetan side there is a notable absence of mois- 
ture. In summer the rain is scanty, in some parts almost 


04 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


unknown. ‘Mn winter, except on the mountain peaks, the snow 
seldom lies more than a few inches deep, and this is soon melted 
by the terrific rays of the midday sun, which are so powerful 
that there is always danger of sunstroke in exposed places if 
one is careless. 

On the other hand, the night cold is intense, far greater than 
anything known on the south side of the Himalayas, and the 
terrible Tibetan winds bite through the skin into the very bones. 
In these conditions death and desolation reign. There is no 
country which appears so bleak and dreary as the lifeless plains 
of Tibet. Even the Tista River, as we neared its source, seemed 
devoid of life, for here it was but one sheet of rigid ice. 

In greatly-improved spirits we continued our way until 
evening, and eventually camped just under the Chumiomo 
Glacier. Here the ground was frozen so hard that we broke > 
several wooden tent-pegs trying to drive them into the soil, 
and finally we had to discard these and use only giant iron nails. 
Even these were badly bent by the frost-bound ground. 

The next day (January 29) I had hoped to be over the actual 
pass but, owing to the gross inaccuracy of the existing maps, we 
missed our way and went eight miles out of our course. The 
result was that evening found us still in the upper Tista Valley. 
By this time I had discovered our mistake, but it was too late 
to retrace our steps that day. 

This event was to us a great calamity, for we had completély 
exhausted our food-stock and were wellnigh starving. All the 
animals, too, had reached the danger-mark of fatigue. The 
previous two nights in the open had, in fact, proved too much 
for the ailing pony “ Gyangtsé.’’ His lungs had caught a chill, 
and I saw that at the best he could only last two or three days 
longer. 

In these circumstances I decided to end, by one stroke, 
both his miseries and ours. All my servants had very strict 
Buddhist religious scruples, however scampish they might be 
in their private life, and refused to kill any living thing, though 
they were quite willing to eat any animal killed by someone else. 
Consequently I had to do the necessary work myself. With 
my huge knife I slit the poor beast’s throat. We waited a few 
minutes, and then, being unable to restrain our hunger longer, 
we sliced off the choicer portions of his carcase and set to work 


4 


TRAPPED IN THE PASSES 95 


to devour the still warm meat. Fuel being mor than ever 
unprocurable, we were forced to eat this raw. To,a gourmet 
the raw and still-quivering flesh of a horse may not appear 
appetising, but I had long lost all sense of squeamishness ; and 
all of us sat down to the meal with relish. Regarding the inci- 
dent from a place of moderate comfort the whole thing may 
seem revolting, but it was the wisest thing we could do, in fact 
the only thing to do to save our lives and end quickly the poor 
pony’s miseries, which could not be mitigated. 


d 


CHAPTER IX 
“VICTORY TO THE GODS!” 


For eight weary miles we retraced our steps the next morning 
(January 30). In this part of the valley the road had long since 
disappeared, but after scouting around in several directions, I 
eventually managed to light on the proper course. This proved 
to be along an narrow side-alley stretching for several miles 
which climbed up almost due north. This soon became a 
difficult ascent, for not only were we forced to walk, but the 
weakened state of the remaining animals necessitated our 
carrying on our own shoulders a good deal of their loads. We 
trudged stolidly up till we were at an altitude of 17,000 feet. 
During this climbing we were often compelled to halt and rest, 
for at such an altitude any form of exertion brings on a 
torturing fatigue, and this steady climb seemed to tear the very 
lungs out of us. The next 1,000-feet rise was torture, and it 
was not until sunset that we reached the path of the pass 
some 18,000 feet above sea- level, and could shout with joy, 
“ Lha-gyal-lo! Lha-gyal-lo!”’ (lit. ‘‘ Victory! Victory to 
the gods! ’’). 

We turned back to catch our last glimpse of India. For 
miles and miles on either side of us we could see the Himalayan 
peaks soaring up to meet and penetrate a huge blanket of cloud 
and mist. It seemed as if a shroud of fear and despondency 
lay over the high places of the world. For me, with the long 
and dangerous journey through the Forbidden Land still 
ahead, it seemed like a message of doom. 

We had exhausted all our energies in our battle with the snow 
and starvation in the passes, and now that we had come through 
it was as if we were not at the end, but at the very beginning, of 
our difficulties. We had still the great winds and the biting 


96 


“VICTORY TO THE GODS?!” 97 


cold of the bleak Tibetan plains to contend witi—no small 
matter if that were our only obstacle—but, in addition, from 
now onward we had not Nature alone, but man also, to 
encounter. We were now in the Forbidden Land itself, and 
every step that took us nearer to the Sacred City brought with 
it greater danger of detection, for the watch against foreign 
intrusion, which is sometimes slack on the outer and more 
sparsely-inhabited parts, becomes the stricter the nearer the 
capital is approached. Knowing all the difficulties which lay 
in ous way, it seemed to me impossible ever to reach our goal, 
and supposing by some miracle we attained our objective and 
reached Lhasa, we should still be faced with our greatest danger 
—.an attack on the part of the fanatical monks of the great 
central monasteries. Asa result of their threats, not only had 
we been forbidden to come to Lhasa, but had not even been 
permitted to remain in Gyangtsé. When they should discover 
that in spite of their threats I had come to the capital, there was 
no telling to what lengths their fury might lead them. 

In spite of these despondent broodings, there was nothing 
to do but to push on with the undertaking. We had not only 
crossed the Rubicon, we had also burned our bridges behind 
us, for the prospect of having to return through the passes was 
even more terrible than to goon. There was nothing to do but 
to steel myself against anything that might occur. 

That night, however, nothing more could be done. The 
animals refused to go any farther. We ourselves were at the 
end of our tether, so we were forced to camp on the broad, even- 
surfaced summit of the pass, a formation which is peculiar, so far 
as is known, to this pass. The natives believe it to be inhabited 
by dark and terrible demons who bring disaster upon everyone 
who stops there. But in the present instance there was no 
choice, and we set about looking for a camping-place. An 
almost ideal spot was found in a tiny ravine hollowed out by a 
stream which forms in summer from the melting of the winter 
snows of the pass and the neighbouring Chumiomo Peak. Soon 
we were tucked away inside our tent. It was perishing cold, 
but I feared more for the less-protected animals than for our- 
selves, so I commanded the servants to take some of our own 
blankets and tie them around the beasts, for we at least could 
obtain a precarious warmth by snuggling close to one another, 

G 


98 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


and I had a reat dread of losing our principal means of trans- 
port. “ 

For food we had nothing but the hunks of horse-meat which 
we had brought with us, but we were fortunate enough to find 
a small quantity of yak- and mule-dung—the aftermath of the 
small native caravans which in summer go over the passes—and 
we could make a pretence of cooking our flesh and, what was 
more, were able to prepare some tea, the best of stimulants. 
We were all of us, however, possessed of a weird and eerie 
feeling, and soon the servants began to recite tales of the hill- 
demons, and then equally fantastic stories of the wild men who 
are supposed to live in the mountains. «I had already heard 
brief mention of these, and listened with curiosity to what my 
men had to say on the subject. 

In nearly all parts of Tibet one finds tradition of the existence 
of a primitive race of men—former inhabitants of the land who 
have been driven out of the plains by the Tibetans and who 
now dwell only in the passes and on inaccessible mountain 
crags. My own servants referred to them as snowmen. They 
are said to be great, hairy creatures, huge in size and possessed 
of incredible physical strength. Although having a certain 
low cunning, they are deficient in intelligence, and it is only the 
intellectual superiority of the Tibetans that has enabled them 
to oust the primitive snowmen from the plains. These men 
of the mountains brood upon their wrongs and wreak their 
vengeance upon any casual herdsmen who may be found stray- 
ing in their domain. So runs the legend, and many attempts 
have been made to ascertain what facts may have given rise to 
it, for it has been permitted to no white man to meet these 
snowmen, and even a Tibetan, when pinned down to it, will 
admit that he has never seen one, but that he has “‘ heard of a 
man who has ’’—sometimes it comes to as near as a cousin, or 
at least a cousin by marriage, who has been pursued by the 
snowmen and just escaped with his life. After all, they will 
observe, do not every year a number of herdsmen away in the 
mountains fail to return to their native villages ?—sure proof, 
they will add, that they have been devoured by the wild men ! 
Rockhill, who came across this tradition in the extreme 
eastern part of Tibet, suggests, in his Land of the Lamas, that 
the wild men may be nothing other than bears. For other 


A 


g 
“VICTORY TO THE GODS!”,, 99 


parts of Tibet this explanation could scarcely be“valid, for in 
many areas—as, for example, in Kampa Dzong’, Pari, and 
district—bears are unknown. 

Others have suggested that they may be some form of ape. 
Only one thing can be said in favour of this theory: the many 
tales told about the imitative habits of the monkey family 
bearing a striking resemblance to some of the native fable, 
related by the Tibetan peasantry with regard to the snowmen. 
As examples I might quote two anecdotes, crude in the extreme, 
as told me by my servants that evening. 

Lhaten related how a friend of his escaped from the wild 
men owing to his acuteness. He was chased by one of these 
monsters, and noticed that when he stopped for a second to 
look back the mountain-man also stopped and glanced back 
over his shoulder. This went on for some time, the savages 
however, gradually drawing nearer. Eventually the Tibetan 
threw himself down and pretended to go to sleep, whereupon 
the pursuer again followed his example and indeed did fall 
asleep, so that the poor peasant, taking advantage of this fact, 
could make his escape. 

“Satan,’’ not to be outdone in the story-telling business, 
now chimed in and related an even more thrilling event, which 
was supposed to have occurred in Lachen, where occasional 
tins of petroleum are imported to furnish lights for the Lapas 
during their long nights. A certain peasant discovered, one 
afternoon, that a wild man had entered his hut, at the door of 
which stood an open tin of oil. The peasant picked up a small 
tub of water in order to throw it at his adversary, but noticing 
that the wild man imitated his action by picking up the tin of 
oil, the man poured the water over himself and was delighted 
to find that the savage, in imitation, emptied the petroleum 
over his own body. The man then seized a blazing stick on 
the open fire, and upon the savage doing the same, the petro- 
leum caught fire and the wild man was burnt to death. 

As an anthropologist I had been interested in the wild man 
discussion, but I soon found out that the information acquired 
belonged by right more to the folk-lorist than to the serious 
scientist, and I proceeded to divert the conversation into other 
channels—viz. our plans for the immediate future. At this 
point I revealed the whole of my plans to my men. 


{ 
100 _ TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Up to that time they knew merely of my desire to reach 
Tibet. I now made bold to tell them that my goal was not 
only Tibet, but Lhasa itself, and that to succeed in getting 
there I should be forced to go in disguise. There was an outcry 
at this revelation. They besought me to get the mad idea out 
of my head and renounce the project. But I persisted, and by 
cajolery and promise of reward obtained their acquiesence. 
To each of them I assigned his new rdéle, had insisted then and 
there upon a careful rehearsal of it. From the baggage I got 
out a gala costume, such as is worn by Sikkimese nobility, and 
gave it to “Satan” to try on. Hereafter he was to be the 
master, posing as a small landed proprietér going on pilgrimage 
to Lhasa, taking the rest of us along in his suite. Except for 
this change of masters, the other servants were to continue in 
their present duties, while I was degraded to the capacity of 
Lhaten’s assistant, and was to act as general cook and bottle- 
washer. I must admit that the servants now entered into the 
project with unexpected gusto. They cameto viewit as a game, 
for the dangers which were before us in case of detection had not 
yet occurred to their slow intellects. The more they thought 
over the reversal of positions, apparently, the keener they 
became to start. In fact, they wanted me to diverge the next 
day to the right and attempt to go directly to Lhasa, but I 
insisted upon going to Shigatsé first. This, as I have mentioned, 
is the second sacred city of Tibet and the seat of the Trashi 
Lama, and I thought it might prove easier to get there than to 
Lhasa, so that, in case we were turned back before reaching 
the Forbidden City itself, I should at least have seen that city 
of Tibet which ranks after the capital in importance. 

It now became essential that I adopt complete disguise and 
act the part of coolie which I had taken on myself, feeling that 
the more lowly I appeared the less attention I should attract 
to myself. The actual process of disguise I postponed until 
the next morning (January 31). This turned out a particularly 
painful business. | My hair was already done and required only 
a few finishing touches, but in order to stain my skin I had to 
strip and stand stark naked in that bitter morning wind of the 
pass, while Lhaten daubed on me my special concoction of 
walnut-juice and iodine. I considered it necessary to stain 
my whole body, and not merely the ordinary visible parts, as I 


“ VICTORY TO THE GODS!” ToL 


feared that later on I might have to undergo a detdiled physical 
examination. Then came the question of eyes. *My eyes are 
blue, such as one never finds in the Orient, and this was likely 
to prove the weakest point of my disguise. For this I had a 
twofold remedy. In the first place I sliced open a lemon, 
specially brought along for this purpose, and squeezed the juice 
into my eyes. Though sharply painful and likely to irritate 
the eyeball, lemon-juice serves to give the eyes—temporarily, 
at least—a much darker hue. For further security, however, I 
empldyed the glue and dark goggles. I pretended to have 
contracted a sharp attack of snow-blindness, and dabbed 
copious amounts of ‘glue and mucilage under the eyelids in 
imitation of the secretions which customarily result from this 
trouble, and, furthermore, wore the dark goggles as a pretended 
protection against the glare of the sun. This excuse would 
pass muster, as snow-blindness is so common in Tibet as not 
to call up special comment. The next thing to be done was to 
wrap up all my European clothes and other incriminating 
articles, and secrete them under a rock. It may be that some 
future traveller to Tibet will find them in years to come and 
wonder how such things came to be placed in this far-away 
corner of the world. 

About nine o’clock we started on our first day’s march inside 
of Tibet itself. Needless to say, I was full of very mixed 
emotions. That day we were due to come in contact with the 
Tibetan outposts and were to have a chance of proving whether 
or not my carefully-thought-out plans of disguise were to be 
effective—and so much depended upon their effectiveness. 
After a short descent the path gradually rose again until we 
were on the top of a second pass, only a few feet lower than the 
pass which we had crossed the preceding day. From this point 
the road—if it could be dignified by this name—descended 
gradually over a gently-sloping plain, which stretched for miles 
ahead of us and which led down to the Kampa Basin. So 
gradual is the descent, and so even the surface of the plain, 
that almost any part of it could be used for motor traffic. The 
thought came to me of the extensive use which is now being 
made on the Mongolian plains of light cars going from Kalgan, 
only a few miles north of Peking, to Urga, the Mongolian 
capital (where also resides a living Buddha, directly connected 


t 
102 ; TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


with the Tibetan hierarchy), and I wondered whether or not, 
in the not far distant future, some use could be made of the 
ubiquitous Ford across the plains of Tibet. Owing to the 
difficulties of my own situation, it struck me as grotesquely 
comic that perhaps, in future years, when the fanaticism of the 
ecclesiastical part of the population had been appeased, a party 
of tourists, shepherded by Messrs. Thomas Cook & Son, might 
motor their way from the pass to the threshold of the Potala, 
where the Dalai Lama sits enthroned. Only let me advise 
such future travellers never to try the journey in winter, ‘when 
the thermometer hovers between 30° and 40° below zero, and 
the cutting winds slice their way to one’s bones. 

As I had come to expect, we found only sparse patches of 
snow upon the plain, but this absence of snow only served to 
accentuate the bleak and desolate nature of the country. 
There, stretching mile after mile, was to be found no sign of 
trees, bushes, or human habitation. The constant alternation 
of midday heat with night cold had broken up even the rocks 
into a sandy soil, with a sprinkling of small pebbles, and had 
eaten away the angles of occasional low-lying hills into an even, 
monotonous downlike formation. There was only one colour 
to everything: a dark and dirty yellow, alleviated only by the 
brilliant snowy peaks of the Himalaya ranges, which now lay 
safely behind us. ) 

At first it seemed as if the plain was completely lifeless— 
devoid of both fauna and flora. Soon we began to meet with 
occasional herds of antelope, which seemed to be grazing upon 
nothing but the sand and pebbles of the plain, but I then 
noticed that here and there, almost hidden in the soil, was a tiny 
tuft of coarse grass, to the casual observer invisible owing to its 
smallness, its scarcity, and its drabness of colour, hiding itself 
as if ashamed of its very existence, or desirous of detracting 
notice from its weary struggle to live. 

So cleverly designed was the coating of the antelopes, so 
much were they in harmony with their surroundings, that they 
too were almost invisible until we were practically upon them, 
and they turned to flee, showing us a tiny tuft of white hair 
at the tail, like a vanishing wisp of snow. It was possible for 
us to get a good look at these dainty animals owing to their 
astonishing fearlessness. In Tibet firearms are scarce, and the 


ae 
“VICTORY TO THE GODS!” ° 103 
J) 
clumsy bows and arrows of the natives are useful only at very 
short range; so that the wild animals of Tibet have not yet 
learned to flee at the distant sight of men. Besides this, hunting 
is strictly forbidden by the Tibetan Government, on religious 
grounds, as being inconsonant with the mercy inculcated by 
the Buddha, and this prohibition is on the whole fairly well 
observed, so that the herds of antelope and other wild animals 
are pretty numerous, and surprisingly lacking in timidity. 
Several times that morning the graceful animals were within 
a stone’s-throw—until suddenly ‘‘ Satan ’”’ broke into a pil- 
grim’s song. The antelopes seemed to have regarded his voice 
as a most deadly missile, for they soon scattered ; and on the 
whole I was inclined to agree with them. 

We went along fairly leisurely. Our pack-animals were so 
weakened by their long privations that I was afraid of driving 
them too hard, and as they had been without proper food for so 
long, we halted now and then to allow them to crop the poor 
stunted wisps of grass which the antelope herds had shown us. 
Both ponies were scam and we were forced to walk the 
whole way. 

We were going on our way quite unconcernedly, having seen 
no signs of human habitations, when suddenly a narrow dip 
in the broad plain, the bed of a long-dried-up and forgotten 
river, brought to view a little village. We were only a hundred 
yards away when we saw it, and unfortunately at the same 
time some of its inhabitants espied us and called out almost 
immediately, so that it was impossible to make a detour. 

I quickly whispered to ‘‘ Satan ’”’ and Lhaten to lead the way 
while I and the others came on with the transport. The 
village in question turned out to be what is called the Chinese 
outpost, for during the period of Chinese influence in Tibet, 
which only ended in 1912, it was the custom of the Chinese 
governors to keep at this point a small detachment of soldiers 
to act as a sort of pass guard. The Chinese have departed and 
their fort has partly fallen into ruin. In the summertime the 
Tibetans themselves always place an official or two here to 
examine any traveller who may come over the passes. But the 
passes are only supposed to be open during the summer months ; 
in winter all traffic between Sikkim and Tibet, certainly along 
this route, is closed, and the officials and their underlings are 


‘ 
v 


T04 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


withdrawn to the great castle of Kampa Dzong, still several 
miles away. « 

On arriving at the village, therefore, we were lucky enough 
to have no one deputed to examine us officially. Nevertheless, 
I was in a great fright lest someone should detect something 
unusual in my appearance, so I hid myself amongst our animals 
as much as I could, and we stopped only long enough to 
purchase a small supply of food. 

It was a poor, meagre little village, hardly able to support 
itself, and could provide us with very little, so it was nece$sary 
for us to push on to Kampa Dzong that same evening. Owing 
to my whispered orders, we did not even’stop to eat our food 
in this village, but, placing it in our wallets, we hurried off, 
making an excuse that we wished to get to Kampa Dzong as 
soon as possible. 

Curiously enough, we learned from the headman, who sold us 
our ¢sampa, or barley-flour, that there were in this same village 
two Tibetan peasants who, having urgent business in Lachen, 
had attempted to cross this pass into Sikkim a few days 
previously, but owing to the snowstorm had been forced to 
turn back. One of them had contracted pneumonia and was 
then in a dying condition. This fact impressed upon us more 
forcibly the great danger which we had run and the almost 
miraculous nature of our escape from death while labouring 
in the passes. 

The inhabitants of this village were even dirtier than the 
average run of Tibetans; there was a thick coating of grime 
on every one of their faces, but considering the cold and the 
misery of their lives, one could scarcely blame them. Since 
leaving Lachen we also had not deigned to wash and we seemed 
on a fair way to equal these natives in the extent of dirtiness, 
given time enough. The dirt, the cold, and the misery seemed 
to have eaten into the very souls of these poor beings, and they 
had all that dead, dull, sodden look of a peasantry long since 
in their decline ; but since it prevented them noticing anything 
unusual in my appearance, I was quite satisfied to find them as — 
they were. 

The village itself, with its twenty or thinly straggling houses, 
was of typically Tibetan design, forming a violent contrast to 
the Sikkim villages we had passed en voute. In the lower, or 


“VICTORY TO THE GODS!” 7” 105 


: ey 
the inhabited, part of Sikkim, most of the housesare made of 
bamboo or wood, the roof being sometimes of thatch. In the 
pass country, one sometimes finds semi-log cabins, though in 
Lachen most of the houses were made of stone ; but in all cases 
in Sikkim and the pass country the roofs have all a marked 
slant, in order to enable them to throw off the summer rain and 
the winter snow. 

In Tibet itself, where trees of any sort are a rarity, and 
bamboos completely unknown, there are no houses built in 
the Sikkimese fashion, but the buildings in this first little village _ 
were even more typically Tibetan, inasmuch as they were all 
built of sun-dried brick. Tibet has sufficient clay soil to render 
brickmaking fairly easy, but owing to the absence of coal, oil, 
and wood, which would serve as fuel for brick-kilns, the Tibetan 
peasants are forced to rely upon the heat of sun-rays to give 
their roughly-formed bricks sufficient hardness to use for 
building purposes. In a rainy climate, such as is found on 
the south side of the Himalayas, these bricks would quickly 
wash away, but in the dry, rarefied air of Tibet they last 
indefinitely. 

Another striking evidence of the dryness of the Tibetan 
climate is to be found in the flatness of the roofs. In contrast 
with the sloping roofs of Sikkim, which are in keeping with the 
hill-and-valley formation of the country, the flat, even forma- 
tion of the Tibetan house-tops seems but a continuation or 
imitation of the broad Tibetan plains, save that they are 
rendéred picturesque by having placed at each corner the 
prayer-tufts and prayer-flags which flutter in the wind. Each 
flutter is as a prayer which rises to the gods and brings super- 
natural protection to the house and its inhabitants. 

The whole village had by now assembled around our little 
caravan, and showed such a lively curiosity in the travellers 
who had been able to get through the dreaded winter passes 
that I left ‘‘ Satan ’”’ and Lhaten to conclude the bargaining, 
and with the rest of the party and the transport started at once 
in the direction of Kampa Dzong. We moved slowly, and half 
an hour later we were joined by the other two. A mile or two 
beyond the village we again halted, and sat down to enjoy the 
first good meal which we had had for some considerable time 
—good, that is, as regards quantity. 


¢ 
‘ TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 
ue 

While sti#l sitting over the remains, we were overtaken by 
one or two of our villager friends, who were on their way to the 
monastery which lay in the direction of Kampa Dzong. They 
came over to us to continue the conversation of the morning. 
I was still fearfully self-conscious, and could not believe that my 
disguise would hold good, and as they approached I immediately 
rushed away, pretending to attend to the animals, which 
in their attempt at grazing had wandered a little bit away. I 
did not dare return until our new acquaintances had safely 
departed. We learned they were carrying a new flag to present 
to the monastery on behalf of the poor man who was dying of 
pneumonia. He was hoping that this*present might enable 
him to acquire enough merit to secure a longer span of life, or, 
if fate was against him and he was destined for death, that he 
might have a felicitous rebirth, for it seemed he had led a some- 
what merry life, and had dreamed that he was, in punishment, 
to be reborn as a louse. I pitied the poor man, but could not 
help feeling that in Tibet the lice—and there are plenty of them 
—lead a happier existence than the men. 

We had now to decide upon our own further plans for the day. 
Lack of provisions and insufficient. knowledge of the road made 
it necessary for us to goon to Kampa Dzong, but this necessary 
visit filled me with uneasy forebodings. Kampa Dzong is not 
only the capital of a large district, but it is also the official gate- 
way to this part of Tibet. There are placed the governors of 
the district and all of their official underlings. Trouble to us 
might arise from any or all of these people, particularly as the 
Kampa Dzong officials had several times been brought in 
touch with white men and knew a good deal of their ways. 
In years past Kampa Dzong officials had turned back 
several would-be explorers, but on two occasions they had 
been forced to organize a reception committee on a 
large scale. 

The first was in 1903, when the British-Indian Government, 
anxious to enter into diplomatic negotiations with Tibet and 
bring about a peaceful conclusion to the points of dispute 
between the two countries, organized a special commission 
headed by Major (now Col. Sir Francis) Younghusband, with 
orders to proceed to the Tibetan frontier and get into touch 
with some special envoys sent from Lhasa, » 


106 


) 


“VICTORY: TO. THE GODS!” 107 


Escorted by some two hundred native soldiers, the 
Commissioner came up to Tibet through Lachen, and brushing 
aside the few Tibetan soldiers who attempted to bar his way, 
crossed the boundary pass, and in July camped just before 
Kampa Dzong. 

Four weary months were spent by this party waiting for the 
arrival of responsible Tibetan officials from Lhasa with whom 
negotiations could be conducted, but these failed to appear, 
and in their place some nine thousand Tibetan soldiers were 
hurried to the neighbourhood and threatened to attack the 
British party unless it withdrew. 

Eventually the commission was recalled; but in its place 
there was organized the more elaborate Younghusband Expedi- 
tion of 1904, whose actions have already been summarized. 
The 1904 mission did not extend the march from Kampa 
Dzong, but entered Tibet through the Chumbi Valley, and from 
there marched on to Gyangtsé. 

‘The second occasion was the friendly reception Kampa Dzong 
was forced to give the two Everest Expeditions. Since 1912, 
when Tibet threw off Chinese overlordship and claimed absolute 
independence, the Tibetan Court has lain under several obliga- 
tions to the Indian Government, the nature of which will be 
discussed at more length hereafter. In return, the Tibetans 
have been forced to make several concessions.. One of these 
was to permit a climbing-party to skirt the northern base of 
the Himalayas from Pair to the foot of Mount Everest. In 
the course of their interesting and valuable scientific work, the 
members of this party were not permitted to strike into the 
interior, but in their progress along the southern fringe of Tibet 
they stopped for several days in Kampa Dzong, and even used 
it as a sort of base. 

Unfortunately, the fact that Kampa Dzong had thus been 
brought into contact with Europeans hindered rather than aided 
me. The Everest Expedition had been armed with special 
passports from the Dalai Lama, and the local officials had been 
forced to concede them hospitality. Not only had such pass- 
ports been refused to me, but I had been especially ordered out 
of the country, and as there was a shrewd suspicion that I 
would make some such venture as I was actually doing, the 
officials had been told to keep “‘ an eye open.” In the interior, 


{ 


108 \ TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


where the simple villagers had only a vague idea of what a 
European laoked like, other than that his skin was white, I felt 
that disguise might not be so difficult, but in Kampa Dzong they 
were acquainted with European features, in which cast, in 
spite of my disguise, my own features run. 

Our sudden arrival in the depths of winter was sure to cause 
some comment, and I wanted to have any inquiry which might 
be made over and done with before I arrived. Consequently 
I sent ‘‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten on to the town in advance, to 
purchase supplies and to hire a room in the rest-house for the 
night. ‘‘ Satan ”’ was to say that his baggage and animals and 
the remainder of his servants would come on later. The syce, 
‘* Diogenes,’ and I were to stay hidden by the roadside until 
sunset, and thus be able to enter the town after dark. 

Accordingly “‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten set off, ‘‘ Satan ’”’ riding 
“‘ Lhasa,”’ the youngest pony, which was still reasonably strong, 
as he wished to arrive in Kampa Dzong attended by a little 
state, while we sat down for our long wait. Before long we were 
troubled by the rising of one of the wild Tibetan winds. The 
Tibetan winds have become famous from the stories which 
every Tibetan explorer has brought back concerning them. 
The bare open formation of the country offers these winds 
great opportunity for sweeping along unchecked, and a 
gale blowing at a hundred miles an hour is by no means 
uncommon. 

For some curious meteorological reason unknown to me, these 
winds become much stronger in the afternoon. Sometimes the 
whole morning will be absolutely calm and about one-thirty 
o'clock a breeze will set in which by three-thirty or four o’clock 
will have developed into a hurricane. The winds have a ten- 
dency to die down soon after sunset, but sometimes continue 
until far into the night. 

They are generally regarded as the most terrible and devasta- 
ting, steady winds known anywhere in the world. The cutting 
gales pierce every form of clothing and remove the little layer 
of warm air which ordinarily surrounds the body, rendering 
frostbite a constant and a very real danger. It is to counteract 
this that the Tibetan preserves on his body the layer of dirt and 
grease which renders him so obnoxious, but which is really the 
finest natural clothing he could secure. 


a 


“VICTORY TO THE GODS!” /? 109 


. 0 

On this particular afternoon, situated as we were.on the great 
plain without any protection, the wind caused us great dis- 
comfort and we felt perishingly cold. We arranged our luggage 
in a little semicircle and then crawled into this and curled up. 
This arrangement offered us partial protection. The syce and 
“‘ Diogenes ”’ fell fast asleep, while I got out a Tibetan text or 
two and started to read—something quite out of keeping with 
my new role of coolie, for it is only the higher priests in Tibet 
who can even attempt to read and write. 

My’literary activities very nearly led me into serious trouble. 
A small party, making its way from Kampa Dzong to the out- 
post village, saw our little camp and came over to find out who 
we were. Owing to the wind, they were right over us before 
we became aware of their existence, and they at once started 
asking questions I did not dare answer, and I began chanting 
the text, as if I were carrying on a religious service which could 
not be interrupted. At the same time I kicked the syce awake, 
so that he could carry on the necessary conversation, which he 
did. A very fine tale indeed he spun. The interview must 
have proved entertaining to both parties, for to me at least it 
seemed to last interminably, and while it lasted I dared not 
relax my chanting for a single minute. Fortunately, the text 
proved wearisomely long, and in common with most Buddhist 
sutras, or religious discourses, full of repetitions, so I could 
continue with my bellowing until the small party was once more 
safely on its way. 


CHAPTER X 


THE DISGUISE TESTED 


« 


In accordance with our plan, towards sunset we started on 
our way to the fortress-town, but we hatl several weary hours 
before we reached it. In the first place, we had under-estimated 
the distance covered, and, secondly, we were considerably 
delayed owing to the collapse of ‘‘ Shigatsé,”’ our second pony. 
He had fought the good fight well, but starvation and piercing 
cold had mortally weakened him, and at last he refused to go a 
step farther. I was very loath to lose him, and I thought that 
if we could only get him to Kampa Dzong, where shelter and 
good food awaited, he might yet recover. By alternate 
pushings and pullings we managed to get him another half-mile 
on the way, but in the end he died under our eyes despite all our 
efforts. Already overloaded as they were, it was impossible to 
add another pound to the weight carried by the other animals, 
so I was forced to abandon, with the dead pony, his saddle and 
one of our saddle-bags which he was carrying. Our travelling 
equipment had been reduced to what seemed an absolute 
minimum, but bit by bit we were being forced to dispense with 
a good part of even this minimum. The discarded saddle, 
incidentally, was of good English make and had cost a pretty 
penny. In Tibet, for the most part, in spite of the abundance 
of yak-hides which can be made into excellent leather, the 
saddles are constructed of wood. The wooden saddles of the 
richer classes are inlaid with coral and turquoise, the favourite 
jewels of the Tibetan, and some are of really pretty workman- 
ship, though insufferably hard, so that it is the custom to lay 
a number of carpets of native make on top of the saddle to ease 
the rider’s seat. When saddled, a Tibetan pony, therefore, 
appears to have imitated a dromedary and grown a huge 
hump on its back. 


T19Q 


THE DISGUISE TESTED § III 


> »f 

In recent years, owing to their greater lightness and compact- 
ness, a number of leather saddles have been imported from 
India by the Tibetan gentry ; and they are quite frequently 
used by the Sikkimese, so that the fact that we had such a 
saddle would not necessarily lead to exposure, but at the same 
time I did not dare take the spare saddle on to Kampa Dzong 
in order to sell it there, for by attracting attention to it arghies 
might have been aroused. 

Once the pony had been left behind, our journey became 
easier,.and I was able to appreciate more fully the marvellous 
beauty of the night. The moon had risen, its light casting a 
magic spell over the land. The desolation of the place seemed 
softened, and far off in the distance the indistinct mass of the 
mighty Himalayas reflected from their many snowy crests a 
soft yellow sapphire radiance, while the moaning of the wind 
seemed like the eerie voices of goblins hovering above us. 

About a mile or so outside the town we were met by Lhaten. 
He had become frightened by our failure to arrive, and had come 
back along the roadway to see if he could trace us, and at the 
same time to tell us how he and “ Satan ”’ had fared during the 
day. The officials had heard of their arrival, and they had been 
interrogated as to who they were and what they were doing ; but 
they had allowed nothing to leak out about me, and as it seemed 
perfectly natural that transport animals, exhausted by their 
efforts in the snow, should not arrive until later, my two ser- 
vants were dismissed by the officials and allowed to go on with 
the purchase of provisions in the little market of Kampa. 

Here a little problem presented itself. I had exhausted my 
ten-rupee and smaller notes in Lachen, and had given Lhaten 
a hundred-rupee note (£7 Ios. approximately) with which to 
purchase our supplies. Some difficulty was found in securing 
change for this amount. 

Rupees, of course, are Indian currency, but as Sikkim has no 
currency of its own, rupees have gradually become the standard 
medium of exchange. Quite a number of Tibetan traders go 
down to India to sell Tibetan wool, and bring back cheap goods 
to Tibet, and the Tibetan merchants have also become accus- 
tomed to the handling of rupees. In some cases, even, they 
prefer them to their own currency, but in most cases transac- 
tions are carried out with the ten-rupee note, which is 


2 aid TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


de 

remarkably.like the note of 100 rupees in size and in appearance. 
To an Oriental the addition of a cypher or so means nothing, as 
anyone acquainted with Indian chronology well knows, so Lhaten 
had great difficulty in getting the Kampa merchants to believe 
that there really was a difference between his note and the more 
usual ten-rupee note. Even when this was done, he discovered 
that none of the merchants was rich enough to change this 
stupendous figure. In the end, three or four of the wealthiest 
had to club together and buy the note, giving an ae a 
heap of Tibetan coins in exchange. 

The basis of money in Tibet is the trangka, apical 
five of which, according to present rates of exchange, make a 
rupee, or Is. 3d., so that a trangka is about a fourth of a shilling. 
These are supposedly made of silver, but of silver so debased 
that I wondered if empty tin cans did not form a large item in 
the purchases of the Lhasa mint, where these and all other 
Tibetan coins are made. Even trangkas are somewhat rare, 
and most of the peasants concern themselves only with the 
smaller divisions of the trangka. These smaller denominations 
are coined from various copper alloys. The most important 
are : 


1. The kakang, or one-sixth of a trangka. 

2. The karmanga, or one-third of a trangka. 
3. The chegya, or one-half of a trangka. 

4. The shokang, or two-thirds of a trangka. 


This curious division of the unit results in a good deal of 
extraordinary calculation in Tibet, where the peasants are 
completely lacking in a mathematical sense, and I wondered 
why it had not been changed. But until Great Britain 
and the United States have adopted the metric system, and 
Great Britain the decimal system, these countries can 
scarcely say anything about Tibetan backwardness in 
this regard. 

Lhaten kept me shivering in the cold for some time explaining 
how things had gone, but once I found that everything was safe 
I insisted on pushing on, and not long afterwards we came 
under the great gloomy castle and entered the little town which 
lies at its foot. In accordance with instructions, “‘ Satan ’’ and 
Lhaten had found lodgings in a little rest-house on the outskirts 


/ 

THE DISGUISE TESTED id II3 
of the Kampa Dzong, so that, once arrived at the tewn, we had 
not fartogo. . : 

By chance we had come to Kampa Dzong at the time when a 
local fair was held. This was largely attended by the small 
traders and peasantry of the surrounding villages. The town 
rest-houses were all completely full. ‘‘ Satan,’’ indeed, as 
master, was allowed to share a room in the house itself with one 
or two petty merchants, but the other servants and I were 
forced to spend the night on the roof. This, being, of course, 
flat, caused no great inconvenience, except that it exposed us to 
the terrible night cold. Although sleeping inside, ‘‘ Satan ”’ 
took advantage of his position to procure all of our best 
blankets, so that we were forced to face the night with but a 
single blanket apiece—no small matter when the thermometer 
registered 30° below zero! 

Lhaten and the other two servants prepared themselves for 
this ordeal by going down to the communal-room—used as a 
kitchen—underneath, and taking a hot and stupendous supper, 
washed down by huge draughts of chang, or Tibetan beer, 
which they also drank hot. I had not yet acquired enough 
- courage to face the crowd that gathers in every Tibetan inn, 
and remained on the cold roof, telling Lhaten to say that I was 
ill and had to go to bed immediately. On this excuse he 
managed to bring some food up to me. Anyone who noticed 
must have thought that, for an invalid, I ate surprisingly well, 
but it mnst not be forgotten that we came very near starvation 
in the passes, and in my joy at seeing food again, I wanted to 
devour everything in sight. 

The festivities downstairs continued for some time, and as I 
lay on the roof shivering with cold, I was fearful every moment 
that, in their bibulous merriment, the servants might let fall 
some words as to the true nature of things. I had given orders 
for an early start the next morning, however, so before long 
the party came up the rickety ladder and settled down to sleep. 
Soon their snores told me that, for the next few hours at least, 
they were not likely to get into mischief. 

I was less fortunate in my attempts at repose. The cold, 
which increased hour by hour, was so insistent that every time 
I dozed off it seemed to claw me awake again. Besides the 
nervous excitement of the venture, the responsibility which it 

H 


\ 


II4 \. TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


entailed prevented that relaxation which was necessary for 
sleep, and at last giving up the job as hopeless, I sat up and 
surveyed the moonlight panorama. The kindly night hid the 
dirtiness of the streets, and made the castle which loomed on 
the hill appear very impressive. 

These castles, or dzongs, as they are called in Tibetan (hence 
the name Kampa Dzong), fill such a prominent place in the 
landscape and life of Tibet that a special word must be said 
about them. A great deal of Tibet is inhabited by nomads 
who make no attempt at agriculture, and eke out a ‘scanty 
existence by moving about with their flocks of sheep and yaks. 
Over such people the Central Lhasa Government has a scanty 
and only indirect control. Where, however, the nomads have 
given way to small settled communities engaged in trade, or in 
agriculture, an attempt has been made to set up a definite 
system of government, partially modelled on the old bureau- 
cratic régime of China, but very largely modified to suit the 
ecclesiastical nature of the whole of the Tibetan political 
organization, 


CHAPTER XI 
; PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 


AT the present time Tibet is divided into fifty-three ad- 
ministrative districts, of which fifty are ordinary and three 
are extraordinary, and each such district has some town or 
village which has been chosen to serve as the local capital 
or centre of administration. In nearly all such cases the 
Governors reside in a great fortress castle, built as far as possible 
of stone, and placed on the summit of a small hill commanding 
a view of the surrounding plains. At the base of this hill is 
situated the village itself. The castles are for the most part* 
really imposing-looking places, and although, as the events of 
1904 showed, incapable of withstanding bombardment by 
modern artillery, they are, or should be, practically impreg- 
nable against any attack by men armed with only bows and 
arrows, or even rifles. But their massiveness is not only 
designed to protect them against attack from an invading army, 
but also to inspire awe in the hearts of the peasantry of the 
district, making them the more willing to obey all orders issued 
by the officials appointed from Lhasa. 

In many cases these castles owe their origin to conditions 
similar to those which brought about the erection of the castles 
on the Rhine and other parts of Europe, and were constructed 
by local chieftains who had a close resemblance to the robber 
barons of the European Middle Ages. The lord chieftains 
have been gradually ousted by the centralized Lhasa Govern- 
ment, and the seats of former semi-independent overlords 
transformed into residences for the centrally-appointed 
Governors. A few castles are comparatively modern in origin 
and have been built for their present purpose by the Govern- 
ment, but in close imitation of the older robber fortresses, 

115 


116 or TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


while, on the other hand, one finds all over Tibet ruins of 
former stately castles and prosperous villages which have 
gradually fallen into decay. 

The interior of these castles, as I found out afterwards, is 
dirty, dark, ill-shaped, and in many cases, owing to structural 
defects, really unsafe, but their exterior, especially when 
viewed from a distance, strikes one as magnificent, and displays 
a talent and a taste for architecture which seems entirely out 
of keeping with the degraded and barbarous state of the 
Tibetans. I have wondered whether these buildings might 
not reflect a former period of culture which has since been lost. 
But in this connection the recent history of Gyangtsé and Pari 
deserves to be brought to mind. As the results of the Yotng- 
husband Expedition, both Gyangtsé and Pari Dzongs were 
razed to the ground, and it was part of the treaty signed by 
Tibet that neither of these citadels should be rebuilt. 

Strict observance of treaties is by no means a strong point 
in Tibetan character, and a few years later the authorities set 
about rebuilding these castles. The English Government 
being then in the hands of the Liberals, nothing was done to 
stop this procedure, and both these castles have now been 
completely rebuilt, and on quite as grand a scale as previously, 
so that at one stroke the Tibetans have once more justified 
their reputation as architects and treaty-breakers. 

An excellent instance of the double nature of the Tibetan 
Government is to be found in the fact that each administrative 
district is governed by two Governors, one of them a monk and 
the other a layman. Needless to say, the monk Governor 
ranks higher than his lay brother-official, although the power 
is divided pretty equally between them. In Tibet it is only 
the priesthood who are taught to read and write, and although 
the lay Governor may have picked up the rudiments of writing, 
it is the monk Governor who has charge of all official corres- 
pondence, while the layman is charged with the supervision 
of purely business affairs. 

The salary of both officials is small, but both become 
enormously wealthy during their term of office, for bribery and 
corruption are rampant in every part of Tibetan public life. 
The officials have practically unlimited powers of extortion— 
powers which they are by no means loath to use—and huge 


PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT. 117 


monetary bribes are paid to the higher officials in Lhasa in order 
to secure the post of Governor in a particularly wealthy district. 
Ordinarily the Governors are appointed for a period of five 
years, although this period of office may be shortened or 
prolonged, and it is quite customary for Governors to be 
transferred from one district to another at the expiry of their 
term of office, from the fear lest one man, by residing too long 
in any one place and gaining too great control over it, should 
be tempted to break away from the Central Government and 
form a little principality of his own. In fact, the Governors 
possess enormous powers of local self-government, and, 
especially in the outlying districts, have very little to do with 
the higher Lhasa authorities, except to send once a year a 
small fixed tribute to the capital—a tribute which is chiefly 
paid in kind: barley, butter, or wool. 

By good fortune, just at the time when I came to Kampa 
Dzong, one of the Governors, by far the more active of the two, 
was away in Shigatsé on a visit, and his absence probably 
influenced the slovenly way in which my servants had been 
questioned by the officials that afternoon. Life is indeed 
deadly dull in the outlying Tibetan towns, and when the 
winter months come, suspending all agricultural work, and 
thereby all chances of monetary gain on the part of the officials, 
it is not uncommon for one or other of the Governors of the 
smaller districts to discover some urgent business, or a dying 
relative, which takes him to the gayer life of Shigatsé or Lhasa. 
Later on I came across several cases where a young Governor, 
who had powerful connections in Lhasa, practically never saw 
the district over which he was supposed to rule. He appointed 
some retainer to act as deputy to collect the moneys, while the 
young aristocrat enjoyed his amusements in the capital. 

Too much landscape, whether in literature or in life, is apt 
to prove very wearying and sleep-inducing, so after I had 
gazed my full at the castle, the sleeping village, and the broad 
plain around, I once more lay down to sleep, and this time with 
more success. But my night’s rest was very short, for accord- 
ing to plan I got up very early next morning and, accompanied 
by Lhaten, left the village before it was light, being still afraid 
that if the Tibetans got too good a look at me they would 
penetrate my disguise. The syce, “‘ Diogenes,” and “ Satan ” 


118 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


were left behind to see that the animals were loaded, to pay 
the rest- house charges, and to start as soon as it was dawn. 
Such an early start is by no means unusual in Tibet, and I 
found that, early as we were, one or two of our fellow-lodgers 
had already departed. We crossed over the little stream from 
which the Kampa Dzong inhabitants get their water, but which 
at this time of the year is practically one block of ice, and went 
on for another mile and a half, then halted for a moment 
to get a last backward look at Kampa Dzong, over which 
the sun was just rising. The day was remarkably fine in 
contrast to the cloudy weather we had experienced the last 
several days, and the young, fresh rays of the sun cast a pink 
radiance over the peaks of the Himalayas, which to the south 
now stretched in perfect visibility on both sides to seeming 
infinity. It was far and away the finest view I had ever seen, 
and even so stolid and humdrum a person as myself had to 
pause to drink in its grandeur. Here at last the Himalaya 
was no mere geographical name, but a living reality, seemingly 
aware of its own serene greatness. From no part of India is 
it possible to gain so general a view of the mighty range, for 
the great altitudes of the highest peaks are rendered apparently 
less than the actual by the gradually-ascending foothills, and 
it is impossible to see more than a few miles on either side. 
Furthermore, the constant humidity of the southern slopes 
brings about cloud-caps which more often than not render the 
topmost peaks invisible. Here, on the other hand, the great 
mountains rose sharp and clear from the dead level of the 
Kampa Plain to their greatest height. The dry crystal 
Tibetan atmosphere brought out every detail into relief, and 
it almost seemed as if at a glance one could see the whole of 
the long stretch of mountains. To the east was Chumolhari ; 
to the south Kanchenjao and Chumiomo, between which we 
had battled with the snow; and to the west Mount Everest, 
the highest mountain in the world. 

It is curious to note that even the great ocean tides pay their 
tribute to the massiveness of the Himalayas. Colonel Waddell 
was the first to point out that the stupendous projecting mass 
of the Himalayas exemplifies the earth’s attraction and 
pulls the sea-level of the Bay of Bengal some distance up its 
sides, so that in sailing to Calcutta one is actually sailing uphill. 


PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT IIQ 


It is probably known generally that, geologically speaking, 
the Himalayas are of very recent formation, being the last great 
range of mountains to be formed. Whereas we ourselves belong 
to the Quaternary period of the earth’s history, the Himalayas 
rose about the middle of the preceding or Tertiary period, 
while to an earlier portion of the same period are ascribed the 
Alps, the Pyrenees, and the great range of mountains in the 
west of both North and South America, which are known in 
different parts by widely-differing names. To a far earlier 
period, the Primary, belong the low-lying mountains of Wales, 
Scotland, Scandinavia, and the mountains of the eastern portion 
of America. . : 

.We halted for some time here waiting for our main party to 
come up, but as they appeared to be delayed, Lhaten and I 
went our way across the Kampa Plain. Running diagonally 
across it, we could see the streak of silver which marked the 
frozen river. This ran for several miles to the west before it 
turned south and, passing through a gap in the Himalayas, 
poured down through Nepal to India and the sea. It was very 
interesting to me to note that, high and stupendous as the 
Himalayas are, they form no true watershed, and that the 
waters of the Kampa and its allied plains, finding no other 
outlet, have eaten a way through even that massive wall of 
rock. Our road, however, now turned to the north and we 
soon left the river behind us. 

Needless to say, the Tibetan officials never dream of spending 
a penny on roads, and the so-called “ roads ”’ are nothing more 
than tracks on the plains, which have been made by the passage 
of the mules and yaks of the small caravans which are con- 
stantly going to and fro all over Tibet. Were it not for the 
terrible climate, the cold winds, and the absence of fertilizing 
moisture, these great plains would be ideal spots for agricultural 
cultivation. The soil itself is excellent and practically virgin. . 
But Lhaten, who, though a Tibetan, had travelled extensively 
in India, expressed his interest in the great contrast there 
was between the life on the Indian plains and here on 
the Tibetan plateau. In India one would see such a flat 
country teeming with life, cut into paddy-fields, and at 
every few miles a cosy village half-hidden behind a clump 
of bush, while here there was neither field, nor village, nor 


120 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


any sign . life, for now even Kampa Dzong was safely 
hidden from sight. 

Soon we came to a place where the road broke into three, all 
of which would in the end lead us to Shigatsé, but as I had no 
idea which one was most direct, and as I was afraid that our 
main party would not know which track to follow, I sat down 
to await its arrival. We had not long to wait, for soon I caught 
sight of our animals with “ Satan,” of course, riding our one 
remaining pony, but I was very puzzled to see not two but four 
men following behind. On catching sight of us, “ Satan” 
spurred his pony on ahead, and as soon as he was within speak- 
ing distance I asked who the two strangers were. 

To my utter astonishment, he told me that they were two 
Kampa Dzong peasants whom he had hired to act as coolies to 
carry the food-supplies he had bought the preceding day, as he 
did not wish to overload the mules. This news was completely 
staggering, and for the first and only time while on the way to 
Lhasa I lost my temper. I explained very forcibly, and with 
frequent reference to his genealogical table, according to the 
immemorial custom of the East, how many kinds of a fool 
he was, and in what great danger he had brought the whole 
venture. I had ordered quite a large supply of food and grain 
to be purchased in Kampa Dzong expressly in order that we 
might be able to keep away from all villages until we came to 
Shigatsé. I thought my disguise might be good enough to pass 
muster with any chance travellers we met on the road, but was 
afraid of the close contact that halting amongst Tibetans might 
entail, and now here was “‘ Satan ”’ actually bringing Tibetans 
along with us, men with whom I should have to carry on long 
conversations—far worse than merely halting at towns each 
evening and starting early the next morning before sunrise. 

It was even impossible to stay where we were and talk the 
matter over, for our new servants were almost up with us. I 
ordered Lhaten to stay behind and halt the caravan for a few 
minutes on the excuse of shifting the loads of the mules, while 
I went on with “‘ Satan ”’ and argued out what was to be done. 
The mules were indeed overloaded, but it was better that they 
and we should carry a few extra pounds until we got to Shigatsé, 
a noted train-animal market, than that we should needlessly 
run chances of detection. Little did I guess the many more 





THE ROAD TO GYANGTSE 
A typical Tibetan road 





GYANGTSE, THE THIRD CITY OF TIBET AND THE CAPITAL OF THE PROVINCE 


On the hill in the left background is the castle, and in the foreground on the right is the Golden 
Chorten shrine 





PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT t2t 


serious chances with which we were later to meet. In fact, I 
would have preferred to leave some of our older. equipment 
behind than to carry along two spies with us. Having thus 
concluded to rid myself of the two new servants who had been 
thrust upon me, I had next to decide how this should be done. 
It would undoubtedly seem strange to them to be arbitrarily 
dismissed a few hours after they had been hired, particularly 
after the master had been seen in an animated conversation 
with his mysterious servant, so I told “‘ Satan ’”’ to go back and 
tell them that they had only been hired because two of his 
servants, Lhaten and myself, had been so ill in the passes that 
it was thought to be inapossible for us to carry any heavy loads 
for the next few days, but that the good food and rest we had 
had in Kampa Dzong had completely restored us, and conse- 
quently there was no longer any need for outside help—at the 
same time they were to be paid the whole of their first day’s 
wages. | 

“Satan ’’ took my remarks in no very gracious manner and 
attemped to argue, but I was very emphatic about the matter, 
and as I began to finger my Bhutanese dagger in a very notice- 
able way, he went back and carried out the necessary order. 
Lhaten, always true and faithful, backed up his story, and the 
Kampa coolies took their dismissal surprisingly mildly—partly, 
no doubt, because they were by no means loath to return to the 
local festivities which were then taking place in the district 
capital—and before very long I was again joined by the whole 
of my original party. 

The disagreeable scene, however, was destined to have lasting 
and unfortunate effects. My vocabulary of unpleasant Tibetan 
words was fairly large, and I had made very full and effective 
use of them towards “ Satan ” in explaining my attitude with 
regard to his action, and they very obviously rankled in his 
devious soul. I had deeply injured his pride, and from that 
time on he was practically my declared enemy. To serve his 
own purposes and to fill his own purse, he consented to continue 
to play his part, but he was only waiting for an opportunity to 
humiliate me and to wreak vengeance. I was fortunate, 
however, in having all the other servants against him. Tibetan 
servants have curiously little loyalty to one another, and in the 
present instance there was positive rancour on either side. 


122 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Generally speaking, Lhaten and the syce stood together as 
against “‘Satan.” The half-idiotic ‘‘ Diogenes’’ formed a 
third party, but the petty quips and persecutions to which 
“Satan ’’ subjected him gradually began to fill his slow, stupid 
mind with a burning hatred that was likely to prove terrible in 
the end. | 

We now had to skirt a low-lying group of hills set in the centre 
of the plain, and rounding these hills we suddenly came in sight 
of no less than six villages, so that my impression of the absolute 
lifelessness of Tibet had to be revised, particularly as all of these 
villages appeared to be in quite a thriving condition. It was 
impossible to avoid them as the road led right through four of 
the villages, and not being quite sure of our way, we had even to 
stop once or twice in order to find out first which tracks we were 
to follow. Putting on a bold face, we marched right into their 
midst, though I insisted on changing loads with “‘ Diogenes,”’ 
who was carrying the bulkiest pack, as it was a fixed point in 
my creed that no Tibetan would suspect the humblest, and 
seemingly the most oppressed, member of a party of being a 
European—such is the prestige the English have acquired even 
in this Forbidden Land—and subsequent events went to justify 
my belief. 

As we stopped for a moment at one or two of the houses, I was 
able to inspect them more carefully. Although equally filthy, 
they were certainly better built than those of the first village 
we struck in Tibet. Nearly all of the houses were two-storied, 
and quite a number three-storied, for the Tibetan peasant is 
no great advocate of the bungalow type of architecture, and as 
it is customary for all of the branches of a family to live together 
they can afford to have fairly large dwellings. They appear to 
be even larger than they really are, as they are built around a 
courtyard. Most of them have verandahs running around the 
first or second floors, looking down into the courtyard, and in 
many cases the staircases connecting the floors run from veran- 
dah to verandah, there being no connection between the various 
stories on the inside of the house. These staircases are very 
rickety affairs, generally mere step-ladders with small round 
rungs made of unplaned smaller tree-branches. In nearly all 
cases the ground floor of the house is used only for stables or 
warehouses, with occasionally a room set aside as servants’ 


PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 123 


quarters, the residential part being on the first or,second floor. 
Most frequently, I was told, the head of the family had the 
highest room, as it was considered injurious to his dignity to 
have anyone standing or sleeping above him—think of having 
the feet of a servant just over the master’s head! The houses 
of the poorer villages are uncoloured, retaining the natural 
mud-colour of the sun-dried bricks, but in these more pros- 
perous communities the dwellings had been colour-washed, 
either white or red, with also an occasional blue. 

Ours inquiries as to the way were answered very satisfactorily, 
and though we were asked who we were and where we were 
going, no suspicions seemed to be aroused. In accordance with 
my instructions, we always gave our destination as being merely 
Shigatsé, as I wished to avoid any mention of Lhasa. Our 
experience in this village gave me a great deal of confidence. 
The villagers obviously noticed nothing peculiar in my appear- 
ance, so that I was emboldened to think that, after all, the mad 
venture we were on might meet with success, though we were 
still far from our goal, and the attitude of “‘ Satan ’’ worried me 
considerably. In any case, I intended taking no risks, and we 
halted for lunch not in any of the villages, but a little beyond 
them in an open space through which ran a little stream on its 
way to join, much lower down, the river we had seen earlier in 
the morning. Here, in this more protected part of the plain, 
the ice was very thin, and I was able to break through it and 
quench my thirst with the chill water flowing beneath. 

My servants preferred to drink some chang, or Tibetan barley- 
beer, which we had brought with us from Kampa Dzong. This 
is really a very refreshing drink and very mild, seldom contain- 
ing as much as 4 per cent. of alcohol, and I would very willingly 
have shared it with them, but for politic reasons I thought it 
better to content myself with water. 

Owing to the great difficulties I found in persuading my 
Tibetan servants to accompany me, a barbarian, to Lhasa, the 
Holy of Holies, I found it very convenient to employ as much as 
possible the honorary Buddhist priesthood which had been 
granted me several years previously in Japan, as the result of 
certain scholastic studies carried on there into Buddhist 
literature and philosophy ; and it was only by emphasizing 
my lamaistic qualifications that I got my poor, superstitious 


124 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


servants to follow me as faithfully as they did. In theory, a 
good Buddhist priest does not drink any form of alcohol, and it 
behoved me to play the part of lama to my own servants quite 
as perfectly as the part of coolie to the general Tibetan popu- 
lace. ‘“‘ Satan,’ indeed, though a priest, drank anything that 
came his way, as does nearly every Sikkimese monk, as well as 
those lamas in Tibet itself who belong to the older Red-hat or 
unreformed sect ; but such wine-bibbing is despised even by 
the most drunken of the Sikkimese or Tibetan peasantry, who 
always want their priests to be something better than they are 
themselves. I am, therefore, led to think that a great deal of 
the loyalty which my servants (with the exception of ‘‘ Satan ’’) 
showed towards me was the result of the little ecclesiasticism I 
was always careful to throw in from time to time. 

On the present occasion I was able to get my own back with 
a little irony. A tiny vest-pocket edition of Omar Khayyam 
was one of the two English books I had with me, and while 
sipping my water, I took out old Omar and chanted two or 
three of his particularly-bibulous verses, while the servants, 
who, of course, understood not a word, took it as part of some 
religious service. 

Once on our way again we rapidly neared the northern limit 
of the Kampa Plain, and soon came upon another fork in the 
road. To the left ran the road to the Sakya Monastery, while 
to the right lay the more direct route to Shigatsé. 

The Sakya Monastery is one of the oldest existing Tibetan 
monasteries and more than usually famous historically. Sakya 
is renowned not only for its monastery and temple buildings, but 
also for its great library with its ancient manuscripts. The 
town is built on the eastern slopes of the Ponpo-ri, around the 
foot of which the River Tom flows. It is the home of the royal 
K6n family of Sakya, and apart from its temples and abbots is 
not held in very high repute in Tibet, being notorious for thieves 
and bandits, and its immorality. 

Lhaten had once been to Sakya, and told me a good deal 
about it. According to him the buildings of Sakya are strik- 
ing, being painted red with the clay obtained on the neighbour- 
ing mountains, and with black and blue perpendicular stripes. 
There are four temples with Chinese-style roofs, the many 
spires being gilded, and these in days gone by were ruled 


PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 125 


over by four abbots of hereditary rank who were allowed 
to marry. : 

The books and manuscripts are on shelves along the walls of 
the great hall, the volumes being 6 feet in depth and 18 inches 
broad. They are bound with iron, and on the cardboard covers 
of some are innumerable images of Buddhas. The pages have 
illuminated margins, the first four volumes having illustrations 
of the thousand Buddhas. Some of the books are written in 
gold. There are also books in Chinese. 

Another interesting relic at the Lha-Kang chempo is a conch- 
shell the whirls of which turn from left to right. Lamas alone 
may blow it, and they do so only on receiving seven ounces of 
stlver. One acquires great merit by blowing or inducing a lama 
to blow this shell. 

Sakya monastery is chiefly famous, however, for the fact that 
for many centuries it was the headquarters of the Tibetan 
Government. 

When Tibet emerged from absolute savagery in the seventh 
century A.D. it was ruled by a line of hereditary kings. It was 
these kings who introduced Buddhism and established the 
earlier monasteries. As the number and power of the monks 
increased, they became jealous of the temporal authority and 
eventually overthrew it. 

I had in my mind to visit this famous place and then double 
back to Shigatsé, but careful thought convinced me that I had 
better push on to Shigatsé directly. Sooner or later my 
prolonged absence from Darjeeling would arouse suspicion that 
I had gone to Tibet, and if I was to get to Lhasa, it was neces- 
sary to get there quickly before too many rumours about me 
could circulate. And so, taking the road to the right, we soon 
began to climb the mountain range which forms the boundary 
of the Kampa Plain. Although called a tableland, Tibet is 
intersected by a number of mountain ranges, many of them of 
considerable height, which break up its vast level expanse into 
a number of flat-bottomed basins of various sizes. These 
basins also differ considerably as regards elevation. In the 
great Changtang, the desert wilderness which lies to the north- 
west of Shigatsé, only a small part of which is inhabited, the 
beds of some of these basins lie over 17,000 feet above sea-level. 
The Lhasa Plain is, for Tibet, comparatively low, being only 


126 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


some 12,000 ‘feet high. The Kampa Plain, which is one of the 
largest singlé basins, is about 15,000 feet above sea-level, as high 
as the summit of Mont Blanc, the highest peak in Europe. 
Occasionally, as between Tuna and Shigatsé, these plains are 
connected by valleys which make travelling comparatively 
simple, but for the most part travelling in Tibet consists of long 
marches along level plains interspersed with steep ascents and 
descents of mountains which may be said to act as walls or sides 
of the basins. 

This particular divide proved very steep and very seaside and 
we found its ascent even more difficult than that of the Koru 
Pass itself. All the morning I had insistéd on “‘ Satan,” as the 
master, mounting our one remaining riding-pony, but now evén 
he had to dismount and help us get the struggling pack-animals 
through the huge sand-drifts in which they were hopelessly 
struggling. Nearer the top we came across some long-lying 
snow which had become frozen into a single icy block. For the 
animals this proved still more difficult, so we had to go back to 
our old custom and hack out steps and footholds for them. All 
this took a good deal of time, and it was already three p.m. 
before we got to the top. Here we found another gyatse, and 
though no one was around, we carefully followed Tibetan cus- 
tom and added a stone to the little heap in front of the mountain 
shrine and called on the gods for protection. 

From here we could see below us another plain, similar to the 
one from which we had just come, but on a smaller scale. No 
villages were in sight, but grazing on the plain were several 
herds of yak and sheep, with a number of herdsmen looking 
after them. : 

It took us some time to get from our mountain pass down 
to the bed of the plain, but once this task was accomplished, I 
decided to halt for the night and to pitch our camp by the 
side of a tiny frozen lake we found just at the base of the 
mountain. Although invisible, I knew that a few miles farther 
on, on the other side of the plain, lay a large village, the village 
of Kuma, but I felt that the farther away we camped from 
every village the safer we were. 

We were still in contact with the herdsmen, but this I did not 
mind. The herdsmen belonged to one of the nomad tribes, a 
simple and kindly people, though many of them, especially in - 


PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 127 


the north, are given to brigandage. The townsmen and the 
nomads are never on particularly friendly terms, and the latter 
tend to look on the Government officials, who dwell in the 
towns, with a certain amount of suspicion. We stopped one 
of the men in charge of a yak herd and purchased from him 
some yak’s milk, which I drank with great relish, for though 
possessing a somewhat peculiar taste, it is very rich in cream, 
and in this bitterly-cold climate everything of a fatty nature is 
very palatable. In taste the quality of yak’s milk lies some- 
where Hetween cow’s milk and goat’s milk. 

Strangely enough, notwithstanding the enormous number of 
yaks to be found in Tibet and the great amount of milk which 
they produce, the Tibetans themselves are very loath to drink 
it, or to use it in any way in cooking. Most Tibetans regard 
milk as filthy, as being a different form of urine, and when 
drunk it is regarded as a kind of medicine which must be taken 
however unpleasant it may be, so that when we purchased our 
supply from the herdsman, we had to explain that one of us was 
ill and required it on medical grounds. 

The repugnance which the Tibetans feel against milk is 
more than counteracted by their fondness for butter. While, 
curiously enough, milk is regarded as filthy, butter is considered 
clean, and incredible quantities of butter are consumed every 
year. Itis chiefly used in the preparation of tea, as we shall see 
hereafter. Quite apart from its food value, butter is largely 
used in two other ways, one as a fuel for lamps and the other 
asa decoration. . | 

Nearly every one of the older religions reveals a fondness for 
having some light burning before its sacred images, and in 
Tibetan Buddhism this practice has been carried to extra- 
ordinary lengths. At all times the principal idols have two or 
three sacred lamps burning in front of them, and at festival 
periods the number of such lamps set alight in a temple will be 
increased by hundreds and even thousands. It is a common 
form of piety to bestow a sum of money on a temple to have 
a special display of such lights. In all such cases the only fuel 
used is butter. The lamp itself is a wide, shallow bowl, the 
wick being a twisted cord made of wool placed in the middle of a 
lump of butter. The flame is a rich and creamy yellow, rather 
pretty, but it gives out little light, for which reason, and also 


i 


128 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


because of ‘the expense of the fuel, these butter-lamps are 
chiefly used in religious buildings, and are but sparsely employed 
by laymen. The Tibetan believes in going to bed with the sun, 
and in an ordinary household artificial light is seldom required. 
During the last few years wax candles of European design have 
been imported into the larger centres, such as Shigatsé and 
Lhasa, and the townsmen are taking to the use of them; but 
they remain entirely secular, and it would be considered 
blasphemous to burn a candle before a sacred image. 

As a decoration for the temple, or family shrine, butter is 
also in great demand. The butter is moulded into various 
shapes, having some more or less yeometrical form, and 
frequently having some bas-relief design representing -an 
animal, or more frequently a flower. Although made entirely 
of butter, these zorma, as they are called, are usually dyed in 
various different colours, reds and greens being the popular 
shades. Some of these forma are made only for a special 
occasion and then ceremoniously destroyed, but many of the 
larger ones, on which a great deal of sculptural effort has been 
expended, are expected to last a year, and are solemnly 
replaced at some annual festival. 

Although I enjoyed the yak’s milk, Tibetan butter I always 
found particularly unpleasant. The Tibetans never think 
of preparing it with salt, and owing to the peculiar nature of 
yak’s milk, it very soon becomes rancid. Even a few days 
after its preparation it acquires a smell and a taste which is, 
to Europeans, extremely repulsive. Consequently, although 
Tibet is a land overflowing with butter, every Englishman— 
such, for example, as the officers stationed at the military 
outposts at Gyangtsé and Yatung—are forced to import tins 
of butter from Australia. The Tibetans not only find nothing 
wrong with their butter, but actually appreciate it more the 
older and “‘ riper ’’ it is, and the same nomad who sold us the 
milk offered us some butter which he proudly declared was 
forty years old. The one whiff which I got of it made me 
readily believe in the antiquity claimed for it. At this moment 
Lhaten came to my aid and declared that though our master 
(‘‘ Satan ’’) was of excellent family, he could not afford such 
a costly luxury and would prefer to buy some butter which 
was fresher and cheaper. 


PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT 129 


De gustibus non est disbutandem, to use Frederick’ the Great’s 
one Latin quotation: in Tibet it is butter, in China it is eggs. 
A Chinese gentleman considers an egg which is literally black 
with age a peculiar delicacy, but until we have rid ourselves 
of our taste for game and cheese which are more than “ high ”’ 
we shall hardly be in a position to criticize Oriental preferences. 

As dusk drew on the herdsmen gradually began to lead off 
their flocks to a point some distance away, where their encamp- 
ment lay. These yaks seem to have an ear for music, for their 
herdsnzen always whistle in a peculiar way through their teeth 
to keep the herds together and on the march; but the 
Tibetan sheep appear’impervious to melody, for in their 
case the men employ slings with which they throw small 
stones with really remarkable accuracy. It was very interest- 
ing to see huge flocks of sheep guided along their way by a small 
hail of pebbles which assailed them on every side. 


CHAPTER XlIT 
LIFE: ON THE PLAINS ¢ 


SOON we were once more alone and*I could again take an 
active part in the proceedings. While the herdsmen were 
around, I had curled myself up near our unloaded baggage 
and had pretended to go to sleep, while “‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten 
carried on negotiations, though I was gradually losing my 
timidity as to my disguise. The great cold, which had lessened 
at midday, once more came on, and as it gradually soaked into 
our pores we became nearly paralysed and stupefied both as 
regard body and brain. I longed for the partial protection 
which the erection of our tent would bring us, but that tried 
and faithful friend was of too obviously European design, and 
I was afraid that the herdsmen, or some chance traveller, 
might see it and wonder as to the nature of its occupants, and 
so, to the great dissatisfaction of my servants, I gave orders 
that we were not to use it. Instead we made a semicircle of 
our bags and boxes and crept inside this with nothing but 
heaven above us. 

We were partly consoled by being able to light a fire. We 
had not seen a single tree for several days past, but we found 
in the plain some old yak-dung, which we collected and used 
for fuel. Incidentally it may be noted that this is the only ~ 
fuel used over the greater part of Tibet, which is barren of 
both trees and coal. It is collected by the village children and 
specially dried before being burned. It gives a quick hot fire, 
but has to be frequently replenished. Owing to the ammonia 
contained in it, it emits a very acrid smell, which flavours 
any food cooked over it. Strangely enough, one becomes 
accustomed to this taste, and subsequently finds for a time 
that food cooked in an ordinary way seems almost tasteless, 


130 





‘LIFE ON THE PLAINS 131 


On this particular evening the yak-dung was worse than usual, 
for we had to use what we could find. None wet recovered 
had been properly dried. Some of it was so fresh that it 
refused to burn, and as the bitter acrid smoke got into our 
eyes, it became very painful. To a certain extent I was glad 
of this. The weak point in my disguise was my eyes, and if 
they were obviously swollen and bloodshot I should have all 
the better excuse for wearing my dark goggles, which served 
not only to hide the colour, but also the European formation 
of my eyes. 

Our nightly camp-fire conversation was shortened that 
evening owing to the intreasing cold, and all of us were anxious 
to tuck ourselves in as soon as possible. In the absence of the 
tent, the only thing to do was to sleep as close to one another 
as possible. I never thought I should enjoy sleeping huddled 
up amongst filthy natives, but then all other thoughts save 
that of warmth were banished, and so we piled all the blankets 
together and crept under them. Even so, we could only find 
sleep by lying so close together as to feel the warmth of one 
another’s bodies. Social distinctions were only to be seen from 
the fact that “‘ Satan ’’ and I were in the middle and there- 
fore protected on both sides, while the others were arranged on 
the outside, ‘“ Diogenes” sleeping at our feet. He, poor boy, 
was destined to have a bad time. The shoes he had brought 
with him from Sikkim had fallen to pieces, and we had pur- 
chased for him a new pair of boots in Kampa Dzong. Unlike 
most Tibetan boots, which are made entirely of wool, these 
Kampa Dzong boots were made of very badly-treated yak 
leather, and were insufferably stiff. During the latter part 
of the day “‘ Diogenes ”’ preferred the cold of bare feet to the 
torture of the boots, and had exposed his toes to the frozen 
soil and the biting night cold. 

We were so tired from the previous day’s exertions, and our 
night’s rest had been so miserable, that we slept on longer than 
was intended. It was nearly eight o’clock before we were 
on the move again. I was glad to see that a good feed had 
improved the spirits of our animals; they looked fresher 
than they had done for some time past. On the other 
hand, all three of the mules had been developing very 
sore backs. 


132 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Our packs were modelled on native Tibetan lines and were 
very difficult to balance, so that they had always a tendency 
to drag on one side or the other, which, of course, served to 
irritate any saddle-sores. The Tibetans are notoriously callous 
in their treatment of their animals, and, so long as it does not 
interfere with the efficiency of the animals, do not seem to care 
what horrible sight the saddle and blankets may cover. It 
was always a trial to my patience to see at each rest-house the 
cruel way in which the transport animals were loaded and 
unloaded. With other people’s affairs I had nothing to do, but 
I determined to make the lot of our own creatures as easy as 
possible, and when the others were engaged in packing up our 
things, the syce and I always did what we could for the mules. 
I had ordered the servants to purchase in Kampa Dzong what- 
ever local remedies for saddle-sores might be used in Tibet, and 
on this morning I found that they had purchased for the 
purpose a tin of well-known English make of black shoe-polish ! 
—-shoe-cream being one of the things the Tibetan merchants 
bring back with them from Kalimpong. The Tibetan boots 
being made, for the most part, entirely of wool, and coloured 
red, the natives have no need for any kind of shoe-cream for its 
ordinary purpose, but the superstition has grown up that it is 
useful for saddle-sores, and in the larger Tibetan towns it is 
occasionally to be found in the market for this reason. 

I must confess that I had grave doubts as to its efficiency, and 
would have preferred ordinary vaseline, but there was nothing 
else available and, after washing out the sores, we dabbed them 
over with the blacking. This was destined to give us one 
further inconvenience. What in the daytime served as saddle 
blankets were used as blankets for ourselves at night, so that 
the blacking which came off on to the blankets was bound to 
transfer itself to our clothes as time went on. But in Tibet, the 
paradise of filth, a little extra black makes a very trifling 
difference one way or the other. 

Now that we were alone, I thought of washing my face and 
hands at least before starting on the day’s journey, but even 
this prudence forbade. We were likely to touch another village 
later on in the day, and in case the peasants were to see me 
without that grime which comes only with a long abstinence 
from ablutions, their suspicions might be aroused, and so, 


LIFE ON THE PLAINS 133 


following my servants’ example, I set out, though ‘reluctantly, 
in all my accumulation of filth. 

As our track lay across the open plain, the first part of our 
march proved fairly easy, though I noticed the bed of the plain 
was not as even as that of the Kampa or Tuna plains. It 
rolled slightly up and down hill, and was occasionally eaten 
away into ravines by some long-extinct rivers. Judging by 
the number of such dry river-beds which I saw in this land, 
one is compelled to believe that at some time the climate of 
Tibet Was much moister than at present. I later found, after 
careful inquiry and observation, that even in summer, which is 
the wet season of Tibet? the rainfall is so scanty that hardly a 
trickle passes over the river-beds which look as if they had been 
hollowed out by mighty streams. 

Under the influence of the desolate plains and the dry river- 
beds, I waxed very pessimistic that morning, and called to 
mind the many other places in which man seems to be fighting 
a losing battle with nature. All the great deserts seem to be 
gradually widening their boundaries. In Africa, in America, 
and in Australia, the deserts are slowly eating into the pasture- 
land. In the highlands of Asia this devastation appears to be 
encroaching even more rapidly. Just north of Tibet, in Chinese 
Turkestan and in Mongolia, this transformation presents itself 
as a tragedy of civilization. There the explorer everywhere 
comes across ruins which show that, only a few hundred years 
ago, prosperous kingdoms existed endowed with magnificent 
palaces and sparkling fountains—phantom civilizations they 
were, for now not only are the palaces deserted, but for the 
most part they are also covered and obliterated with the sands 
carried on the death-bearing winds of the ever-encroaching 
desert. 

In one of the depressions in the plain we found the main camp 
of our nomad friends of the preceding day. This consisted of 
four or five tents, coloured black and made out of yak-skins. 
These tents are very picturesque, and I was very anxious to 
purchase one, more particularly as I should not have had any 
hesitation in erecting one for the use of our party every night, 
for it would have attracted no particular attention from the 
casual observer, while our white linen tent, of course, would be 
at once an object of curious inquiry. The nomads were very 


134 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


much surprised at our request for a tent, and refused on any 
consideration to sell us one. 

It was interesting to contrast these primitive tent-dwellers 
with the more sophisticated dwellers in the villages. Their 
communities are particularly important in certain circumscribed 
areas, however, and they live a freer, more open life than the 
townsman or villagers. Out on the hillsides and over the 
moors they pasture great flocks and herds, their livestock 
including yaks, sheep, goats, and ponies. In the Rudro, Ngari 
Khorsum, and the Dro-to districts of Western Tibet, praétically 
the whole of the inhabitants belong to the nomad tribes of 
herdsmen, the only exceptions being monks and Government 
officials. Some live in villages during the winter, and: in 
Western Tibet the herdsmen retire to their stone-built huts for 
shelter when the hard weather begins. In places these winter 
encampments, however, consist of encircling walls and stone 
defences against wind and snow, inside which the tents are 
erected in deep excavations ; elsewhere, certain tribes have 
hewn large galleries in the rocky hillsides. These are entered 
by narrow holes, but inside it is roomy, lofty, and warm. 

In summer one comes across the Dro-pas in all parts of the 
country on the higher plateaux, where pasturage is to be found 
for the cattle. Their picturesque encampments of black tents, 
decorated with yaks’ tails and prayer-flags, are very interesting. 
Each tribe clings to a particular district, or de, and each tent 
houses a separate family. These tents are made of black 
canvas, very coarse in texture, which is spun from yak’s hair ; 
hides are sometimes used. Along the centre, at the top, 
runs a six-inch aperture through which the smoke escapes ; 
at the entrance of the tent a more or less rude shrine is placed, 
and inside there is room for twenty or more persons to sleep. 
The clay-built stove and oven occupy the centre, and round 
this assembles the whole family. The chieftain’s tent, in 
comparison with the others, is well appointed, and one may find 
imported wares, tobacco, and tea inside. 

The nomads live pretty well, for their flocks supply them with 


ample food and material for clothing. Yak-flesh and mutton, ~ 


always boiled, are in plentiful supply, butter and cheese are 
available, for the Tibetans do not drink fresh milk, and always 
allow it to curdle or make it into cheese and butter. Parched 


LIFE ON THE PLAINS 135 


barley made up into soft balls in tea generally, is a staple food- 
stuff. Far better off are these nomads than the average urban 
dweller, for even the poorest has a small flock, while oft-times a 
family tent will own up to fifteen hundred head of cattle, goats, 
sheep, yak, and ponies. From the wool of the long-fleeced 
sheep (there are four species of sheep in Tibet), which is rarely 
exported, and the soft under-wool of goats, etc., clothes and 
rugs are made, while this latter is exported, and is utilized in 
making the famous soft Kashmir shawls. 

The,dress is a sheepskin robe with the wool on, bound round 
the waist by a yak-hair girdle ; the women, in addition, wearing 
woollen petticoats and striped shawls, with traditional head- 
dress (the form depending on the district) which is profusely 
bedecked with coral and turquoise. The women, too, have an 
advantage over their village sisters, in that they do very little 
field-work, and attend to their homes ; the heavy labour is the 
sphere of the men. 

Throughout Central Tibet, covering the provinces of U and 
Tsang, the nomads wander between town and village, encamp- 
ing wherever possible, probably on a ledge up the hillside 
where, from their tents, they can command a view of their 
pasturing flock, and at the same time be somewhat free from 
molestation. They cover the land south of Lake Yamdro, 
the districts adjoining the frontiers of Nepal and Bhutan, and 
far away in the extensive pastoral area, a hundred to two 
hundred miles north-east of Lhasa, where the whole country 
is covered by the tribes of these folk. 

While within its district the tribe is an entity, the families 
split up and roam about independently, but rarely, except in 
the case of the marauding nomads, do they overstep the confines 
of their territory. Some of these families do not retire to special 
fastnesses during the winter months, but merely strengthen 
their tents and dig themselves in. Taxes are paid by the 
Dro-pas in cattle and ponies, also in butter and coin on their 
flocks, while they must provide transport animals for the 
monasteries and Government officials. But some of the 
wilder tribes ignore these tax claims. 

The Horpa tribes north-east of Lhasa sometimes leave their 
pastoral pursuits and go off on mounted raids into neighbouring 
territories and along the highways. Sometimes a gang, which 


136 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


may number up to ten score, will range over hundreds of miles 
of country, raiding and carrying off flocks and pillaging 
villages and travellers. 

The Rong-po Dro-pas, who live in the territory contiguous 
to U in the east, are a race of giants who have proved them- 
selves of sturdy character in the wars. Of an athletic bent, 
they add hunting to their occupations of agriculture and 
horse-breeding, while the Gya-de tribes of the eastern and 
east-central districts, who practise polygamy, and not 
polyandry, by the way, and raise large families, live in 
permanent tent encampments, raising large flocks of sheep 
and milch-yaks. Altogether the Dro-pas tribes, as a people 
and for their peculiar customs and habits, provide one of the 
most interesting features of Tibetan life. 

After a few minutes’ conversation with these interesting 
nomad folk we went on our way across the plain. About noon 
we came to a small lake which, being very shallow, had com- 
pletely frozen over. 

Earlier in the day I had been rendered sorrowful by the 
absence of water. I was now to find the presence of water 
in the form of ice even more troublesome, for the glassy surface 
of the lake at which we had arrived presented a serious obstacle. 
The path lay directly over the ice, and so, sillily enough, instead 
of skirting the lake we embarked with all our animals upon the 
unstable footing of the slippery surface. One of our mules 
fell and badly sprained a leg. This was ‘‘ London,” the most 
gallant and hard-working of the three mules. I at first feared 
she had broken her leg and that we should have to cut her 
throat, but only a tendon had been strained, and a few minutes 
later she was pluckily limping on again. Poor, faithful little 
old “‘ London,” how brave you were, exhausting all your 
strength struggling to keep up with the others, until a few days 
later, having come to the end of your tether, you lay down and 
died without a sign of complaint ! 

““ London,” who was the first to cross, taught us a lesson, 
and as the other animals made their journey, Lhaten stood at 
the head and I at the tail of each, and whenever one slipped 
we held it up until it could find a footing again. 

At last, when we thought all was well, “ Satan ”’ slipped and 
had rather a nasty fall on the ice. His cumbersome attempts 


LIFE ON THE PLAINS 137 


to get up were really so comical that all of the others, including 
myself, had to laugh. A man of very quick temper, he was 
rendered perfectly furious, and once on the other side I had 
the greatest difficulty in restraining him from physical violence. 
It is an interesting commentary upon human nature that 
ridicule seems to be the cause of more deep-seated anger than 
anything else. 

Warmed by our attempts to bring the animals safely over 
the ice, we stopped for a few minutes on the other side of the 
lake and took our midday meal. While we were resting there 
a merchant caravan with some twenty yaks came up to the 
lake on their way to Kampa Dzong. The merchants gave us 
but. scant attention, and after a brief hail started across the 
ice. It was interesting to see the slow, sure, and perfectly- 
poised way in which the yaks managed to get across. Great 
clumsy, awkward-looking brutes they are, but they seemed 
quite unconcerned at crossing the glassy surface, and lumbered 
along without the slightest suggestion of falling, though the 
ponies which the merchants were riding experienced the same 
difficulties as those undergone by our own animals a short 
time earlier. | 

The yak is in many ways a remarkable animal, and a whole 
book could be written about it. This beast is found wild as 
well as in domestic service. There are several species and 
crosses. The cross between yak bull and the Indian cow is 
the beast in largest demand, being found throughout Tibet in 
domestic service, farm-work, and transport. 

The wild yak is a sturdy beast rather like the American 
bison or so-called “ buffalo,’ with a large heavy head which 
the beast bears close to the ground. The back slopes down 
to the tail, and the flanks are draped with long thick wool 
which reaches down to the ground, the underpart of the belly, 
which is practically bare, being protected from the cold in this 
way. The hoofs are large and cleft as suitable for climbing, 
while the strange tongue is armed with barbs enabling the beast 
to tear off and masticate the coarse herbage on which it feeds 
—lichens, camel’s-thorn, mosses, and suchlike. A bull will 
measure 11 feet from head to tail-root and stand 5 feet high 
at the shoulders. Horns, points forward, will measure over 
30 inches. The tame yaks and crossbreeds are smaller. 


138 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


This splendid beast is very surefooted though slow, and will 
climb the toughest way like a goat. It roams in herds, some- 
times with the wild ass and antelope, over vast tracks. In the 
winter it scrambles up the mountain-sides far above the snow- 
line, rooting out mosses and such stuff from under the snow. 

Once we had recovered our breath and had disposed of our 
meal, we hastened on again, for the wind began to blow in an 
alarming fashion, the sky, which in the morning had been so 
clear, became murky, and evil-looking clouds seemed to 
threaten some kind of storm. We wanted to get on as far as 
possible before any radical change in the weather might hinder 
our march. : | | 

“ Satan ’’ continued in a bad temper the whole afternqon. 
He had been rendered irritable by the hardships of the last 
several days. The ridicule he had suffered as the result of his 
slip was the last straw, and he continued to make numerous 
insolent remarks. I could not afford to break with him, and 
so was forced to keep the peace in spite of the fact that he was 
already talking of giving information to the authorities. 

Before long we came to the other side of the plain, and it 
looked as if we had another mountain range to cross before dusk 
should come upon us, when suddenly we saw a narrow opening 
in the mountains divide ahead of us which led directly into 
another plain a few hundred feet higher than the one on which 
we were standing, and which, instead of being level, was tilted 
slightly, forming a long shelving upward slope. 

More or less at the junction of these two plains we found the 
important village of Kuma, seemingly a thriving community, 
and though without a castle, it was the largest settlement 
which we had yet come across. Seeing that we had with us suffi- 
cient supplies for the future and had therefore no need for further 
purchases, I wished to pass by this village unnoticed, as I had 
heard it was the residence of several Government officials ; but 
though we did not stop, we were not lucky enough to escape 
attention. : 

The dogs alone, on seeing us, made enough noise to awaken 
the dead. Tibet abounds with dogs. The natives have no 
conception of breeding or racial purity as regards their animals, 
so that the dogs are weird mongrels of a hundred known and 
unknown breeds. Apart from a few pet dogs kept by the 


LIFE ON THE PLAINS 139 


aristocratic families in Shigatsé and Lhasa, all Tibetan dogs fall 
under two main categories, scavengers and watchdogs, both of 
which are found in great numbers in every village. 

The scavengers are all hopelessly hungry-looking animals, 
usually of a light-brown colour. They are left free to prowl 
about at will, but seem to have been divested of every form of 
moral or physical courage, and with furtive eye and drooping 
tail slink around the family courtyard. They are really despic- 
able curs. The only thing one can find to say in their favour 
is that as scavengers they are really effective, as there is 
nothing, no matter how filthy, which they refuse to eat. 

The watchdogs are of an entirely different build, larger and 
stronger, with a much longer coat, generally black. They are 
always chained up in front of the great gateway which leads 
into the courtyard, and thus lead a life of perpetual captivity. 
They bark vigorously at the approach of any stranger, and 
generally make a bloodcurdling attempt to bite as well. These 
dogs are purposely underfed in order to keep them in a savage 
temper. 

Kuma is a trade centre which depends a good deal upon 
catering to the Tibetan merchants passing to and fro on their 
journeys, and as in winter times are slack, a number of rest- 
house keepers came out to secure our custom when the dogs 
warned them of our approach. These touts were by no means 
pleased when we told them that we were not stopping. They 
told us there was no other village for many miles farther on, 
for which I was not sorry, and we persisted in our story that we 
had to push on to Shigatsé owing to urgent business. This 
did not seem to satisfy them, and one or two uncomplimentary 
phrases were hurled at us. Not that we minded this greatly ; 
much more unpleasant was the fact that a shepherd fell in with 
us and said he would accompany our party until he came to his 
hut, a mile or so farther on. His unsolicited company proved 
more disquieting, as he insisted on carrying on a lengthy 
conversation with me personally. A man of very humble origin, 
he did not presume to address any remarks to “ Satan,” 
the supposed master, and both Lhaten and the syce exhibited a 
coldness which he could only imagine came from a dislike to 
exchanging pleasantries with a poor shepherd. So he turned 
his attentions to ‘‘ Diogenes”? and me, as obviously the 


140 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


humblest members of the party. Poor ‘‘ Diogenes ’”’ was never 
very brilliaht at conversation, and so, very unwillingly, I had 
to shoulder the responsibility of the dialogue, though I made 
frank signs to “‘ Satan ”’ to come back and relieve me of my task 
—signs which he completely ignored. 

I had long since reached a point in my Tibetan studies where 
practically every word which I heard was intelligible to me, 
and my own Tibetan was always understandable and compara- 
tively fluent, but I was afraid that the misuse of some word or 
false intonation might betray me. 

The intonation was the important point, because, unlike any 
so-called Aryan language, Tibetan, in common with the other 
South Mongolian languages such as Burmese and Siamese, and 
with Chinese, a Central Mongolian language, makes constant 
use of various tones to indicate changes of meaning. 

In Chinese, as is generally well known, several words can be 
phonetically spelled and pronounced exactly alike, but can have 
entirely different meanings according to whether they have a 
rising or falling intonation, etc. The Tibetan tones are some- 
what differently arranged. In conversation the pitch of the 
voice varies, each word having a tone in which it should 
be pronounced, but it is the initial letter, or sometimes the 
silent prefixed letter, which governs the tone. Grammarians 
distinguish six tones, but for practical purposes these may be 
reduced to three—the high, the medium, and the low tones. 
Thus, for example, Tibetan has three letters ( "7, T24T. ) 
which in the modern colloquial sound like our letter # (all three 
are so rendered in the present book), but the first is given a high 
pitch, and is pronounced with the tongue between the teeth, the 
second is given a medium pitch and is strongly aspirated, the 
third is given a low pitch and is pronounced through the throat. 
Similarly, there are in Tibetan three kinds of #’s, or #’s, and ch’s 
and ¢s’s, two kinds of s’s, and two kinds of sh’s. In speaking 
Tibetan it is very important that all these distinctions be 
observed. 

Not wishing to show our shepherd friend too many of my 
tone exercises, I was as laconic in my replies as possible, and 
assumed my role of a dull, stupid, vacant-minded peasant, to 
whom any great conversational effort was a serious mental 
strain. He seemed quite content to find a good listener, 


LIFE ON THE PLAINS I4I 


chattering gaily on, scarcely waiting for an answer, and any 
divergences on my part from his conception of standard 
Tibetan vocabulary or accent he put down to dialectical 
peculiarity. 

All the time he was with us he busied himself spinning yarns, 
both metaphorically and literally, for he occupied his hands 
spinning a large wad of wool into. a coarse thread, which his 
wife would later on weave into cloth. This yarn was spun 
with the aid of a curious little bobbin which he kept swinging 
round and round. 

This is a favourite occupation of the Tibetan peasant men 
when they are on tramp’or with their herds. It serves a useful 
economic purpose, and at the same time gives them some way 
of occupying their minds during the long idle hours when 
tending their flocks, which require so little supervision. 

Our companion, whose presence had proved so unacceptable 
at first, really amused me with his guileless chatter, and I felt 
genuinely sorry when he came to his hut and he left us with 
his “ Kalepe a”’ (it. Please go slowly), the usual polite parting 
phrase in Tibet. 

We had felt so sure of being able to follow the track that we 
had neglected to ask him for directions, and found ourselves 
puzzled when we came to a place where the trail split into 
three, leading in widely-different directions. Not knowing 
which to choose, we at length followed the usual Buddhist 
course and chose “ the middle way.’ Following it for several 
miles, with ever-increasing difficulty and discomfort—for the 
day had grown murkier and colder than ever and the devastating 
afternoon gale drove straight against us—at length we met a 
small party of peasants bringing some yaks into Kuma. Their 
information told us we had battled several hours with the wind 
uselessly, because for once the middle way was not the proper 
way, and we should have taken the route to the right. 

Kindly, simple souls, these peasants became quite excited 
over our troubles, and told us how we might cut across the 
sloping plain and get back on to our road without having to 
retrace our steps. One, a toothless old grandmother, who was 
perched on top of a yak, took pity on “ Diogenes ”’ and me, 
who were obviously not only the humblest but also the most 
miserable members of our party, and offered us a drink of the 


142 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


chang, or a eas she was carrying. For once, in spite of 
my teetotal intentions, I accepted with alacrity. 

Another hour’s weary trudging brought us back on our 
road, and we continued along it until we were ready to drop 
from utter weariness and misery, eventually halting at a 
dreary desolate spot only some ten miles beyond Kuma, so 
much time had we lost by taking the false direction. A few 
flakes of snow fell and, looking back from our elevated position, 
we could see that a real snowstorm was taking place on the 
pass by which we had entered Tibet. Had we been but three 
days longer in the mountains, we should certainly have 
perished in the snow. I was thankful for our deliverance 
from the danger of the pass, but certainly our present position 
was heart-breaking enough. 

Not daring to pitch our tent, we were exposed to the full 
fury of the windstorm, which brought with it the greatest 
cold we had yet experienced. Worst of all, we could not find 
even yak-dung, and were unable to light a fire, so that we were 
even without that Tibetan tea which cheers the soul. 

We had become frightfully thirsty, and though we had 
encamped by a tiny rivulet, the water of this was frozen fast, 
so that the only way we could quench our thirst was by 
chipping off pieces of ice and letting these melt in our mouths. 
The night was even more miserable. 

We tried desperately to get to sleep, but after every few 
minutes’ uneasy dozing we would be awakened by an extra 
gust of icy wind, which penetrated right through the blankets. 
Poor ‘‘ Diogenes’ moaned the whole night, owing to the 
agony he suffered from his frostbitten feet. 

It was too much to expect human nature to stand such 
misery, and I was not surprised when, shortly after midnight, 
“Satan ’’ announced his intention of abandoning the project. 
The other servants, unfortunately, were awake and for once 
joined their voices in favour of ‘‘ Satan’s”’ declaration. 
Considering our obvious discomfort, it was a bad time to 
attempt to argue with them, so in the end I was forced to 
compromise. I pointed out that their physical suffering 
originated only from the fact that they were sleeping out in 
the open, and that if they were to spend each night in a village, 
where they could find food, drink, fire, and shelter, they would 


LIFE ON THE PLAINS 143 


have nothing to fear, and that even if we gave up the project, 
it would be impossible to return to Sikkim immediately, as the 
passes were now definitely closed. 

After some argument they agreed to carry on, if the plan of 
halting each stage at some village were carried out. This, of 
course, would enormously increase the chances of detection. 
Each day I would come under the surveillance of the villagers, 
but I felt that I could no longer expose my servants to such 
privations as we hadendured. Furthermore, I felt emboldened 
by the Success of my disguise. Already I had met and talked 
with numerous Tibetans, who seemed to notice nothing unusual 
about my appearance orf speech. Peace and unanimity were 
thus once more restored to our party. By acurious coincidence 
_ the bitter wind, the immediate cause of our misery, died down 
very shortly after that, and we were able to get a little real 
slumber. 


CHAPTER XIII 


ON TO SHIGATSE 


WE had made most excellent plans to start early on our 
journey, but all of us were still sound asleep when the sun arose, 
and I was awakened to find a strange Tibetan face peering into 
mine. I was astounded and thought that through some 
treachery we were discovered, yet I still had enough gumption 
to pretend to go back to sleep again, for in the night I had 
taken off my dark goggles, and I was, therefore, afraid to let 
anyone get too close a view of my eyes without this protection. 

My sudden alarm proved groundless. The strangers were 
an old man and his son who were on their way to Shigatsé. 
They had halted the previous night at Kuma, and having 
started early in the morning, had caught up with us soon after 
sunrise. Being surprised to find a party sleeping in the open, 
they had come up to make inquiries. 

Lhaten told them we had lost the way the preceding evening, 
and consequently were so delayed that we had been unable to 
get to the next village, and had slept out. He spoke feelingly 
of the miserable night we had spent in the open. Our visitors 
did not stay long, but on leaving said that they were halting 
a mile or two farther on to eat and rest, and that we should 
probably catch them up. 

Half an hour later we had packed everything up and were 
on our way, though I felt in a very depressed mood. It was 
impossible to go back on my promise to my servants, but I felt 
that under the new conditions which were to await us I had 
very little chance of ever getting to Lhasa. I felt all the 
sufferings we had undergone had been in vain, and the only 
thing to be done was to penetrate as far as possible into the 
country before I was discovered. 


144 


ON TO SHIGATSE 145 


The morning was very misty ; often it was impossible to see 
more than a few paces ahead. Then for a moment the mist 
suddenly lifted and we saw coming towards us a number of 
riders armed with swords and with rifles, followed by a large 
caravan of yaks! At first the caravan smacked of something 
official, but the consequent apprehension was misfounded, for 
the cavalcade turned out to be a peaceful trading-party only, 
though, even so, to be on the safe side, I knelt down and 
pretended to attend to my boots as they came by, so that 
my face should be hidden. 

The presence of the armed men was easily explained. Where- 
as the villagers in Tibet are more or less under control, 
the Government officials have not yet managed to imbue the 
outlying nomads with any lively conception of discipline, and 
they are always prone to turn highway robbers. Consequently, 
when a caravan containing merchandise of any value is destined 
to go over territory outside the influence of the towns, well- 
armed guards are always employed to protect it. 

The hasty glimpse I got of this party showed me that the 
swords were all of native design. The inhabitants of Central 
Tibet have never shown any great aptitude for design or crafts- 
manship, and most of the daggers and knives of Tibet come 
from Nepal, from Bhutan, or from Kam, the great semi- 
independent province which lies between Tibet proper and 
China. 

The rifles, on the other hand, were of modern and European 
design. Of recent years a great many modern rifles have found 
their way from India into Tibet—some legally and some 
illegally. In addition, the Tibetans are now busy manufactur- 
ing such rifles in Tibet itself. Even before 1904 the Tibetan 
Government had established a small arsenal in Lhasa, where 
quite creditable imitations of European rifles were made, 
chiefly based on samples secured from Russia, and such guns 
were in the hands of some of the soldiers who fought against 
the Younghusband Expedition. Since 1912 the arsenal has 
been very considerably expanded, and now turns out a number 
of rifles every year! Some of these imitations, which later fell 
into my hands, I found to be very exact, so exact, in fact, that 
even the nameplate of the original European makers had 
been copied. 

K 


146 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


I was able to catch only a fleeting glimpse of the loads which 
the yaks were carrying, but from the size and shapes of the 
bundles it was pretty obvious that they mostly contained wool, 
barley, flour, boxes of brick-tea, and salt. The last three 
articles were probably for consumption in and around Kampa 
Dzong, for they have little or no export value. Nearly all the 
tea used by the Tibetans in every part of the country comes 
from China. It is compressed into bricks, which make the 
tea much easier to transport, but it was curious to find tea 
coming to Kampa Dzong from distant China, when excellent 
tea is grown in Darjeeling and many parts of Sikkim. Such 
is the power of custom that this nearer and far more delicate 
tea is never imported. The barley was more explicable, - for 
even the villagers in the neighbourhood of Kampa Dzong 
depend largely upon the flocks for their livelihood. Though a 
certain amount of barley is grown, the climate is too cold and 
the altitude is too high to make any form of agriculture particu- 
larly successful. In some places the barley plant never fully 
ripens, and on the approach of the bad weather has to be 
plucked green and used merely as fodder for the animals during 
the winter months. 

The environs of Kampa Dzong, being essentially grazing- 
land, produce more than enough wool for all local purposes, but 
Kampa Dzong itself is one of the places from which wool 
gathered from every part of Tibet is, in the summer months, 
sent down to Sikkim and India, where it commands very high 
prices, for Tibetan wool is very nearly the best. The reason 
for this is that the terrible cold of Tibet has forced nearly all 
animals that live there to grow a curious sort of inner coat of a 
fine and silky nature, which lies close to the skin and keeps out 
a great deal of the biting wind which penetrates the outer coat. 
Although nearly all the animals, including the dogs, grow this 
soft silk wool, it is particularly luxuriant on the yak, the sheep, 
and the goats, and can be used for commercial purposes. Owing 
to its silk-like texture it is much prized by the natives of the 
surrounding countries. 

Most of the wool caravans go over the Gyangtsé—Pari— 
Yatung—Kalimpong route, but here there is practically a 
monopoly which kills all competition, and many of the smaller 
traders prefer to use Kampa Dzong as the export base. 


ON TO SHIGATSE 147 


Incidentally I was told that a good deal of smuggling has been 
going on since 1912, when the Chinese-Tibetan customs office 
was abolished. India and Tibet have established absolute 
free trade, and there is no import duty levied on either side ; 
but the Tibetan Government, in a desperate attempt to secure 
money for its new enterprises, levies a tax of 5 trangka on 
every bale of wool that is sold, and in many cases this tax is 
only extorted at the frontier stations as a sort of port duty. It 
is payment of this tax that the smugglers try to avoid. 

The salt used in Tibet is derived in nearly all cases from the 
saline crustations surrounding many of the lakes. In most 
cases the natives use it exactly as they find it, with no attempt 
at .purification ; consequently one frequently finds with it 
grains of sand, and in many cases it contains mixtures of salts 
other than the common sodium chloride, or ordinary table-salt. 
For this reason Tibetan salt has frequently a peculiarly acrid 
and bitter taste. Finally, one finds it sold in fairly large crys- 
tals, which makes it difficult to be sprinkled over food, but which 
does not interfere with the principal Tibetan use of it, which is 
to boil it with their tea. 

We went on steadily uphill for some time after leaving the 
caravan which had aroused our fears without seeing anyone 
else, and I began to think that, after all, we would be spared 
meeting the two traders who had awakened us that morning. 
But just as I had come to the conclusion that they had gone on 
ahead without waiting for us, we came in sight of a deserted, 
ruined stone house, and found that this served as the halting- 
place of our friends. They hailed us as we came up, and we 
again stopped for a few minutes’ conversation. Learning that 
we were going to Shigatsé on pilgrimage, they suggested that 
we continue the journey together, Shigatsé being their home 
place, to which they were returning after a visit to a relative in 
Kampa Dzong. | 

Such a proposition is not unusual in Tibet, for owing to their 
fear of brigands, small parties do not like to make a long journey 
alone, and where small groups of travellers are unable to hire 
armed guards such as we had seen that morning, it is usual 
for them to join together in order to make a show of bigger 
numbers and thereby frighten away the less bold, or isolated, 
brigands. 


148 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Personally, I was not so much afraid of brigands as of the 
law-abiding Tibetans, but thought that at least, if these two 
friendly travellers were with us, we should no longer have any 
fear of again losing our way. I was still very loath to come into 
such close personal touch with Tibetans, which would not allow 
me to relax my disguise for a single minute, even when on the 
road. Only two days previously I had made a great scene 
when I found the Kampa Dzong coolies had been added to our 
party. Much had happened in the short space of time which 
had elapsed, and I felt much surer of myself and of my disguise. 
Still, I would certainly have rejected our present companions’ 
offer had it been possible to discovet a satisfactory excuse. 
The matter was taken out of my hands, however, by “‘ Satan.” 
During the last day or two he had waxed rather independent, 
and had found the réle of master so congenial that he decided 
to play the part in earnest. Without even so much as a glance 
at me to see how I wanted things to go, he accepted the Tibetans’ 
proffered companionship, and as it was obviously impos- 
sible for me to make an open protest, we waited another few 
minutes until our new companions had time to reload the horse 
which they had with them to carry their loads, for they them- 
selves were walking the whole way, and pushed on together. 
I was rather sorry for this, for if they, like “ Satan,’’ had been 
riding there would have been less need for me to come into 
personal contact with them. 

While they were thus busy with their loads, I quickly made 
up my mind as to the best way to meet the new situation. I 
whispered to Lhaten that I and the syce would go on and 
try to keep ahead of the main party the whole day. Lhaten 
was to follow on with our new companions, tell our 
prearranged story, and inform them that I was a little queer 
in “‘the upper story.” Incidentally, I added that he was 
never to leave ‘‘ Satan ’’ alone with them, as I had already 
suspicions that the scamp might attempt to betray me. By 
this arrangement I felt that there would be less danger of 
detection than if I remained in closer contact with the party 
all the time. 

Until about noon the road continued uphill, though nearly 
always with the same gentle incline, a formation which I 
believe to be very rare in Tibet. We came eventually to the 


_ON TO SHIGATSE 149 


apex of the slope, marked, as usual, by a pair of shrines with 
rags and prayer-flags attached to them. We added our stones 
to the votive pile, duly invoked the gods, and passed over to 
the other side, where our descent began. 

The pass marks the watershed of this part of Tibet. Upto 
this time all the streams, when they did not evaporate on the 
open plains, joined the rivers that pierced the Himalayas and 
penetrated directly into India. The river which we arrived 
at on the other side—a stream of important size, considering 
how néar it was to its source—ran down to the great river of 
Tibet, the Brahmaputra, which may be called the life-artery 
of Tibet, for it runs diagonally across the country many 
hundreds of miles, and nearly all of Tibet’s cities are placed 
either on this river or on one of its tributaries. Shigatsé and 
Gyangtsé are on the Nyang, and Lhasa on the Kyi River, both 
of which empty into the Brahmaputra. I felt, therefore, 
that we had really entered the heart of Tibet once we had crossed 
the watershed. The portion of the country drained by the 
Brahmaputra is the most fertile part of Tibet, and I could 
feel, as soon as we started the descent, that it was four or five 
degrees warmer. 

We had now come to an entirely different kind of country. 
Instead of the broad, flat plains, we found a valley, a valley 
which gradually widened out, but from which the mountains 
rose sharply on either side, in a more or less parallel direction, 
contrasting with the plains that seem to be enclosed on all 
four sides by mountains. 

Geographically the Tibetans divide their country into three 
main types. These are known as Kong, or valley type, the 
Dro, or the flat pasturage type, and the Tang, or desert-plain 
type of country. The Rong type, naturally, is found in the 
more mountainous part of the country, and consists of the 
narrow, but frequently well cultivated, valleys and gorges 
which lie between mountain ranges. Both the Dro and Tang 
types are broad plains or flat-bottomed basins, but are dis- 
tinguished from one another in that the lower plains, which 
are more fertile and can support a large number of flocks, are 
called Dro, or pasturage country, while the higher and bleaker 
plains retain the title of Tang. 

The change in scenery which we noticed, therefore, indicated 


150 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


that we had emerged from the Tang to the Rong type of 
country. 

The Rong district, particularly between Shigatsé and Lhasa, 
contains numerous villages and monasteries. It is a rugged 
land of steep ridges, ravines, and wild waterways, difficult to 
traverse on account of the bare, forbidding mountains which 
have to be crossed, and the dark narrow gorges. Yet within 
this seemingly unfriendly tract the people are industrious and 
happy, with villages grouped on ledges on the hillsides, and 
sometimes along the sides of a valley, particularly at the 
juncture of one river with another where the alluvial soil 
provides profitable cultivation. The abundance of water, 
and the rich, raised earth-beds washed up alongside the rivers, 
and possibly the protective nature of the broken country, 
make the Rong districts a favourite stretch for village settle- 
ments. 

The Dro country, the territory of the semi-nomadic Dro-pas, 
with their herds and flocks, lies chiefly in the southern part of 
Tibet, but carries away to Dro-de, north-east of Lhasa, which, 
in a district 150 to 200 miles of the capital, is surrounded by a 
very beautiful country with wide and fertile valleys fairly 
intensively cultivated and watered by large rivers. 

The Dro districts are mainly tracts of heath and moorland, 
sometimes very wild and bleak, with huge mountains which 
rise up straight from the valleys and run rugged spurs from all 
angles into the surrounding plains. Bogs and swamps abound 
in parts, and dangerous gulches and crags. The soil is of 
a dark, peaty nature, bearing a coarse herbage and some 
shrubs, and near the rivers willow and poplar trees. In 
favoured spots a wealth of beautiful flowers may be seen for 
four months of the year, between the snow periods, and also 
juniper and stunted firs. Small towns and villages are dotted 
about here and there, but are not nearly so frequently met 
with as in the Rong districts. 

Summer lasts for four months. In October the snows come 
and the whole aspect of the land is changed. Through the 
winds the snows are driven and frozen hard, and throughout 
the bleak winter the only life is that of hares and foxes, a few 
antelope here and there, the wild ass and yak, which will be 
seen high upon some rocky ledge routing round in sheltered 


ON TO SHIGATSE Ist 


nooks for the scant herbage on which they subsist during this 
drear period. The herdsmen withdraw from the plains and 
upland pastures to the stone-built huts, or to the villages, with 
the domestic cattle, leaving the land to the wild life and stray 
wayfarers. | 

The great tract of country in the west of Tibet is known as 
the Tang territory, a region of wide steppes, rising out of which, 
particularly in the more westerly portion, are formidable 
mountains. The plains are really wide, shallow valleys 
bounded by steep hills, the valleys being anything from fifteen 
to forty miles in length. From the hill-tops as far as the eye 
can reach appear vast bare and _ desolate-looking even 
stretches, perhaps broken by a river and shallow lakes. The 
lakes are mostly salt, and fringing them are whitish borders 
where the evaporated water has left deposits of sodas and salts. 
The soil, broken up into a flaky substance, powders into a 
light, sandy nature, with occasional patches of dirty white 
where clay is uncovered. The lakes and swamps between 
latitude 33° and 82° E. are in the midst of a dry region where 
the soil is covered with saltpetre. There is scant vegetation 
and slight herbage only in the deeper, damper valley beds, 
and in places it is absolutely bare. A coarse grass south of 
latitude 33° and at an altitude of 15,000 feet supports the tame 
cattle of the Changpas, as the natives of this region are called, 
and also provides food for the wild asses and antelope, and 
there is here also a broad belt of fertile pastures running for — 
about forty miles where thick grasses, wild rhubarb, and other 
herbs are found. Then, again, in the saline valleys to the 
north, where slabs of salt lie about on the surface, grass of a 
- coarse quality occurs, and still farther northward somewhat 
luxuriant herbage serves as efficient pasturage for herds of 
wild animals. 

Here too the summer is short, and a severe winter period 
sets in early, changing entirely the aspect of the land. But 
the saline lakes do not freeze, even though the surrounding 
land and fast-flowing rivers are frostbound in a cold which 
will descend to 45° below zero. The appearance of these 
unfrozen lakes is rendered then even more curious by the fact 
that the hot springs which occur near the lakes, generally of 
the gusher type, are frozen into hard crystal columns of ice, 


152 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE, 


In this regard it should be noted, however, that the higher 
plateau of Chang-tang (or Plains of the North) are at an 
altitude of anything from 15,000 to 17,300 feet above sea-level. 

I was glad that I had not in my fright rushed on ahead alone, 
but had brought the syce with me, as we met several natives 
on our way down the valley, with whom an occasional word was 
necessary. I let the syce do most of the talking, and contented 
myself with throwing in a remark when I felt on safe ground. 

In the excitement of the morning I had quite forgotten to get 
out any food from our common stock, but in the load which I 
was carrying there was a small sack of barley-flour, and filling 
our tea-bowls full of water from the icy‘stream, the syce and I 
mixed up the barley-flour to form a paste and with this sparse 
food we had to be satisfied for the rest of the day. 

We were fortunate that afternoon in having very little wind, 
and consequently made much quicker progress than had been 
possible the preceding day. About four o’clock a bend in the 
valley brought before our eyes a village some three or four 
miles away. This I knew was the place where we were to 
halt for the evening. 

The syce and I waited until the others came up, as I certainly 
did not want to have the unpleasant task of searching out a 
lodging and bargaining over the amount to be paid. We had 
obviously done our march at a pretty good rate, for it was nearly 
half an hour before our party arrived. When they did come 
up I asked the gyepo, or old man, the elder of our two com- 
panions, where we were to stay for the night. He answered 
that there was one lodging in the village in which he always 
stayed, and being known there he could get things cheaper. 
So he and his son now led the way, and the members of my party 
followed. I pulled Lhaten aside and with him dropped even 
farther behind, as I wanted to find how things had gone during 
the day, and also to give certain orders as to what I wanted done 
during the coming evening in the rest-house, where, of course, [ 
could no longer directly issue orders. This took longer than I 
expected, and when we arrived at the village, the name of which 
I discovered was Yako, I found that our party had already dis- 
appeared into somerest-house courtyard. Iwas very angry that 
they had not left a rearguard to tell us where to go, as it meant 
that Lhaten and I had to wander around the whole village 


ON TO SHIGATSE | 153 


and ask at several places before we came to the rest-house which 
they had entered. At the entrance to the rest-house there 
was the usual watchdog, who sprang out at us in a very 
threatening way. Being in rather an irritable mood, I raised 
the whip which I was carrying, but before I delivered a single 
blow I noticed that the dog cowered down and slunk into his 
kennel. This struck me as particularly humorous, because 
it showed that the Tibetan dogs are like the Tibetan men— 
fierce and threatening creatures, whose main idea is to terrorize 
all around them, but like most bullies arrant cowards at heart. 
On entering the courtyard we found that the syce and 
““ Diogenes ’’ were busy’ unloading the mules and that the 
younger of our companions was helping them, an act of kindness 
which I had not expected, so that without more ado Lhaten 
and I went on to the rest-house common-room and began 
preparing the food for that night. 

This was my first real experience of a Tibetan rest-house— 
in Kampa Dzong I had merely slept for an hour or two on the 
roof—so I was much interested in observing how such places 
wererun. The Tibetans, strangely enough, are great travellers 
within the limits of their own country, and nearly every village 
has at least one rest-house, and sometimes two or three, where 
such travellers can stay for the night and find food and drink. 
At the same time such places differ a great deal from any 
European equivalent, having little in common with even the 
old village tavern or inn, which has come to us from time 
immemorial. On the great high-roads, along which Govern- 
ment couriers and officials are constantly being sent, certain 
places are appointed as official rest-houses and are more 
elaborately equipped, but along the minor high-roads, such as 
the one on which we were travelling, the accommodation is very 
primitive. The house is properly a private dwelling. The 
male members of the family engage in ordinary occupations, 
such as agriculture, and the hostel side of the business is run 
by the female department, the chief woman of the family acting 
as the all-important nemo, or landlady. 

The animals are, of course, cared for in the great courtyard. 
The travellers are expected to attend to the loading and 
unloading of their own packs, and must also look after giving 
the animals food and drink. The water in this house was 


154 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


supplied by a well in the middle of the courtyard, while the 
fodder was to be purchased from the rest-house stores. This 
consisted, needless to say, entirely of barley—a small amount 
of barley-grain plus a much larger amount of the dried barley- 
stalks. Any grooming of the animals that is required has to 
be done by the travellers or their servants. In our case this 
business was attended to by the syce aided by “ Diogenes.”’ 

If the traveller is very wealthy, or possesses sufficiently high 
official rank, he and his party are given a private chamber, but 
in other cases all the travellers share a large communal room, 
in which they rest, eat, drink, and sleep. Here we found the 
common-room to be on the first floor, with no window over- 
looking the village outside, but with a huge opening—to be 
closed at night with a wooden shutter—overlooking the court- 
yard below, where, therefore, we could see how our animals 
were faring. The shutters were already half closed, so that it 
was very dark in the room, a fact which I appreciated very 
much, as it allowed me to go about my duties as Lhaten’s 
assistant without very much fear of detection, and I was able 
to lay aside my dark goggles. 

By good luck we found only one other party in the rest-house, 
a group of four people, and as they seemed to be occupied with 
their own affairs, after a brief exchange of greetings we were 
able to ignore them. 

The room contained no furniture of any kind. Both the walls 
and floor were void of any covering. The floor consisted of 
bare ground, though the corners of the room were filled with 
the bales of the more valuable portion of the loads which we 
and the other travellers had brought along inside, for petty 
theft is very common in Tibet, and every traveller wishes to 
keep his valuables as near to him as possible. 

Shortly after our arrival the xemo, or landlady, brought in 
a small iron tripod, and on it an iron brazier with holes in order 
to secure a draught. Filled with yak-dung intermixed with 
a few barley-straws, this was lighted by means of a tinder box, 
and we were now in a position to proceed with the preparation 
of our evening meal. Cooking in these rest-houses is left 
entirely to the travellers themselves, for in no case is the 
rest-house anything of a restaurant, though it is possible to 
buy raw supplies from the landlady. mo 


ON TO SHIGATSE 155 


It can be seen that the occupation of a landlady at a Tibetan 
rest-house is in no way arduous. She has merely to provide 
the room and sell any general supplies which may be wanted. 
It is, therefore, quite obvious why every Tibetan traveller who 
can afford it goes along with a retinue of servants, for the work 
which would ordinarily be done by the servants of an inn in 
the West falls on the shoulders of the traveller’s personal 
attendants, if he feels it infra dig. to attend to such matters 
himself. 

In atidition to servants, moreover, the traveller in Tibet 
prefers to carry the major part of his food-supplies along with 
him, instead of buying ‘them at each rest-house at which he 
stops. The reason for this I could never fathom, except, per- 
haps, that, curiously enough, most food-supplies can be bought 
more cheaply in the larger cities than in the villages. As we 
had laid in a fairly large supply in Kampa Dzong, we were also 
able to follow Tibetan custom in this respect, and I noticed 
that our party, in common with our companions, had to 
purchase only fodder—barley-straw—for the animals, yak-dung 
for the fire, and chang, or beer, all of which were too bulky to 
carry conveniently along. If the accommodation in a Tibetan 
rest-house is poor, and service practically non-existent, yet 
we certainly could not complain as to the amount we had to 
pay as ela, or rent, which, apart from supplies purchased, 
was only a chegye, or half a trangka, approximately 1}d., and 
this for a party of five people ! 

Our two companions were too small a party to form a camp- 
fire of their own and so joined in our circle. This forced me 
to take a seat behind the others, for now that my goggles were 
off I was afraid that the light from the brazier might show up 
my eyes if I came too near. This position also allowed me to 
hear everything that was said without taking too active a part 
in the proceedings. 

The company sat talking and sipping chang some time after 
the meal was concluded. There were no chairs, of course, and 
the traveller sat either on the bare floor or on some of the 
saddle-carpets which they had brought with them. When 
the time came to break up, the nemo was called in and every- 
thing paid for, as we intended to start early the next morning 
before it was light. We then proceeded to prepare ourselves 


156 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


for the night. Bedclothes are never furnished by the rest- 
house, so that every traveller in Tibet is forced to bring his 
own. This, of course, was no difficulty to us, for now that we 
were indoors and had no longer the cold night winds to contend 
with, the blankets we had with us sufficed, though, unfortu- 
nately, it was necessary to give “ Satan ”’ all of my blankets, 
while I had to take the place he had formerly held and share 
blankets with Lhaten. In place of a bed, a Tibetan carpet of 
conventional size—generally 54 feet by 2 feet—is spread out 
on the floor. Sometimes by the richer classes two or three of 
such carpets will be used, so as to counteract the hardness of 
the floor. Either no pillow at all is used, or else one of the 
saddles or smaller packs will be placed under the head. For 
covering there is the usual sheepskin blanket, the furry side 
being laid underneath, or next the body. 

Following Tibetan custom, all of us slept in our clothes, 
though the sash which acts as a belt is either loosened or 
completely discarded ; yet I noticed that one of two of the 
party in the other corner of the room preferred to follow a 
custom which is not uncommon among certain of the Dro-pas, 
or nomads, and stripped themselves stark naked, placing 
their clothes over them as an additional protection. 

The Dro-pas not infrequently sleep on their stomachs, 
sometimes with their knees drawn up under them in a curious 
crouching position, but I noticed that all of our party slept 
either on their backs or sides, but always stretched out straight. 
This, curiously enough, proved one of my greatest trials. I 
had long got into the habit of sleeping more or less curled up, 
so that when lying perfectly straight I found it difficult to get 
to sleep. But as I heard that sleeping with doubled-up legs 
was never done in Tibet, I was forced to try and accommodate 
myself to new conditions. Incidentally, as I was in possession 
of but half a blanket, any attempt at curling up meant that 
knees or feet were exposed to the bitter night cold. 

The next morning our two trader friends initiated us into 
the routine of true Tibetan travelling. I knew that we had 
agreed upon an early start, but I was certainly surprised when 
I woke up at two o’clock the next morning to find that the others 
were already up and making preparations for getting away. 
The Tibetans are accustomed to making incredibly long marches 


ON TO SHIGATSE 157 


every day, and in order to cover the necessary distance 
they rise long before sunrise in order to get as much as 
possible of the march over before the afternoon winds 


set in. 

7 a aa for departure proved very short and simple. 
We had not a mouthful to eat or drink before undertaking our 
long march. I have long been a convert to the “ continental 
breakfast ’’—a cup of coffee and a roll, instead of the porridge 
and ham and eggs with which most sturdy Britons load up 
their stomachs before beginning their work, so that I had no 
yearning for a heavy meal at that time of day, but I should 
certainly have welcomed a large bowl of tea as a stimulant. 
However, when I faintly suggested such a plan, it was at once 
negatived by our companions, and they were astonished that 
anyone should have thought of the idea. 

Needless to say, no time was wasted in washing. There 
were no facilities for doing so even if we had felt inclined. 
Most Tibetans never touch their bodies with water during the 
whole course of their lives, and become practically encased 
in a layer of fat and dirt which served the usual function of 
keeping out the cold. In this connection it may be added 
that from the time I entered Tibet until I entered Lhasa I 
found it impossible to wash even my hands or my face. Tibe- 
tans find the layer of dirt by no means objectionable, and are 
even proud of it. They believe that such a layer not only 
keeps the cold out, but also keeps the luck in, and in many 
parts of the country a young man wants to be sure that his 
bride-elect has not washed this luck-covering away. Not 
infrequently the natural layer will be supplemented by smearing 
the body with butter or sheep’s fat. 

As a final proof that washing brings bad luck, I was once, 
while in Gyangtsé, told the story of a young woman who 
thought she knew better than her elders and insisted on washing 
herself. The heavenly Buddhas and Bodhisattvas were 
evidently displeased with this unfilial presumption, and sent 
her an attack of pneumonia from which she died. 

As though conscious that some criticisms might be levelled 
against them, however, the Tibetans have a common proverb, 
““The Tibetan is black outside but white inside, and the 
foreigner is white outside but black inside.” 


158 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


On this particular morning we were greatly helped by the 
fact that the moon was shining very brightly, because other- 
wise we should have had the troublesome task of loading our 
mules in the dark ; but at the same time the night cold was so 
intense that our hands were numbed and it took some time for 
us to tie the straps together, for our fingers refused to perform 
their function. 

We then struck out on our journey, which continued down 
the narrow valley worn out by the Re River on its way down 
to the Brahmaputra. We had to cross and recross the’stream 
several times, but this offered no great difficulty, for the river 
was covered with very coarse and corroded ice, and was not 
very slippery. 

I did not feel it necessary to separate myself “seth our 
Tibetan companions as on the previous day. In the first place, 
in spite of the moonshine, it was very difficult to see one 
another’s face, and secondly, I had now established friendly 
relations with them, and having heard our story they were 
quite willing to accept us as they found us. I discovered these 
travellers to be extraordinarily kindly, simple, naive people, 
completely ignorant and grossly superstitious, but quite willing 
to accept life as it came to them. The old man carried a prayer- 
wheel in his hand which he kept constantly turning, thereby 
laying up an enormous store of merit for himself, and he 
occasionally ejaculated the sacred formula of Tibet: ‘Om 
mani peme hung,” spelt ‘Om mani padme hum,” to make 
up for delinquencies which the prayer-wheel might have left 
untouched. 

The younger man, although nearly forty years of age, had 
not yet reached the stage of piety, and instead of religious 
exercise occasionally flicked his horse with the whip which he 
carried, and varied this proceeding by now and then bursting 
into song. 

The leather used for all straps and whips is made from 
yak-hide, which the Tibetans have learned to cure in such a way 
as to make it soft. Most of the whips are only two or three feet 
long. Many of them have handles between one and two feet 
in length, made either of wood or more commonly of bamboo. 
The bamboo, and a good deal of the wood, is brought in from 
sikkun. 


ON TO SHIGATSE 159 


The songs which our friend sang were not at all pious, in fact 
they were distinctly ribald, being chiefly in praise of the merits 
of chang and pretty ladies. I was surprised that his father did 
not seem to take any notice of them, but perhaps the old man 
was of the opinion that his religious exercises were sufficient to 
cover the sins of the family, and so let his son go on unchecked. 

Although all my servants were very religious, with the 
possible exception of ‘‘ Satan,’ who was too much of a priest 
to take religion very seriously, I noticed that they gave expres- 
sion to their ardent admiration of the wit hidden in the songs. 
One of the worst of these lyrics ‘‘ Satan’ insisted on learning 
then and there. In the meantime I was troubled by a matter 
of a-quite different kind. The walnut-juice and iodine I had 
used for my face and body had proved very satisfactory, but 
the “ hair-restorer ’’ had already shown signs of weakness, the 
glossy black hue had begun to fade, and I was afraid that any 
application of water to the hair would wash out the dye and 
leave the original brown colour. That morning, owing to the 
cold, I had wrapped my face up so well in a Tibetan scarf that 
even my nose and mouth were covered and my breath came 
directly on my beard. So bitterly cold was it that the moisture 
from the breath collected on the beard and froze, making a 
hard icicle of the whole of the beard. I had not minded this at 
the time, but later on, when the sun appeared and it became 
warmer, the icicle began to melt, and I was afraid that the thaw 
would also take some of the dye away. Carefully examining as 
much as I could of my beard, I found to my horror that this 
was so, and that the colour had become very streaky. I cursed 
the well-known makers of the “ guaranteed hair-restorer ”’ at 
great length to myself. In our luggage there was still another 
bottle of it, but until our next stop I would not be able to get 
at it and repair the damage. In the meantime it was necessary 
to bind the scarf even more tightly around the beard so as to 
hide it from sight. 

About nine o’clock we came to a point where the valley 
widened out considerably, and the river was joined by a 
tributary which came in from the right and which had its origin 
not far from Gyangtsé. A village lay at the junction. © 

I noticed something strange about this village, but could not 
at first explain what it was that made it seem out of the 


160 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


ordinary. Then I realized that for the first time since entering 
Tibet we had met with trees. It was only a small clump of 
trees, a dozen at the outside, bare and bleak in their winter 
undress, but it was indeed a joy to see them. It is only in the 
Brahmaputra basin and its connecting-valley systems that one 
sees any trees at all, and here they are only kept alive by 
attentive cultivation. A wild, natural-growing tree is unknown. 
What trees there are in Tibet, it is interesting to note, are 
nearly all deciduous, evergreens not being able to sia the 
bitter winter weather. 

I had hoped that we would stop at the pleasant villa, for 
by this time I was ravenously hungry, but our guides kept 
steadily on for another two hours, during which time we passed 
two other villages, before, at last, they stopped in front of a 
large isolated farmhouse, where they said we had to rest 
for an hour and eat our first meal. 

At last, I thought and prayed, we should be able to go 
upstairs to a room which would be somewhat private and also 
in semi-darkness, but we had to stay in the courtyard under full 
public gaze, and we were soon surrounded by a host of young- 
sters, who were anxious to inspect the newcomers, and who 
passed audible comments upon our appearance. In these 
circumstances I was doubly afraid to expose my streaky beard, 
and instead of unwinding my scarf as the others did, I pretended 
to have toothache in addition to all my other troubles—tooth- 
ache, owing to lack of dentists, is very common in Tibet—and 
resolutely stuck to my wrapping and buried my face in my 
hands as well, giving vent to occasional short moans. This 
seemed to amuse the children, who shouted, “‘ The coolie has 
got toothache ; the worms have got at his teeth.’”’ But soon 
their attention became directed to poor “‘ Diogenes’ ” feet and 
I was once more left in peace. 

The woman brought the yak-dung brazier out ; this time it 
was of earthenware, not of iron, and before long our simple 
meal was ready. 

The Tibetan peasants are very irregular in the time of their 
meals. There were no definite times for eating. Food is 
prepared whenever they feel particularly hungry, but generally 
speaking they are content, especially when travelling, with 
two meals a day: one is eaten shortly before noon, and the ~ 


ON TO SHIGATSE 161 


other at the end of the day’s march, which is usually shortly 
before dusk. 

These two meals consist almost invariably of the same 
food: meat, barley, and tea. The meat eaten in Tibet 
is either yak’s flesh or mutton. A haunch is left outside 
to freeze, and this preserves it to a certain extent for several 
months, though the recurrent heat of the day causes it to thaw 
sufficiently to become putrescent. At night it freezes again, 
a process which repeats itself as long as the meat lasts. The 
Tibetans do not object to the semi-putrescent, as they consider 
that the taste is in this way improved. Occasionally the meat 
is cooked, but for the most part the peasants prefer to eat it 
raw, hacking off small pieces with their great knives. They 
eat it with their fingers. 

The tea is of a very coarse kind. It is all imported, chiefly 
from China in the form of compressed bricks. As it is difficult 
to make leaves stick together, the tea is mixed with small 
quantities of yak-dung, which acts as a cement. A portion 
will be broken off a tea-brick and thrown in the water to boil. 
After it has bubbled for some time a huge mass of butter will 
be added, and at the same time a small quantity of soda and 
salt. This is thoroughly mixed, and then allowed to boil again 
for several minutes. Needless to say, the use of milk and 
sugar is unknown. Sometimes sheep’s fat will take the place 
of butter. In any case the butter, which is made from the 
yak’s milk, is invariably rancid. It is kept for months and 
even years before being used. As with us wine, so with the 
Tibetans butter is considered to be improved by age. This 
buttered tea is consumed in increasing quantities, and served 
as a food as well as drink. 

The barley-grains are first parched and ground into very 
fine flour. A handful of this flour is poured into the tea and 
kneaded with the fingers into dough-balls. The aristocrats of 
Tibet have become addicted to certain Chinese dishes, but the 
peasant is forced to content himself with the above diet all 
the year around. Fish and fowl are considered too filthy to 
be eaten. Vegetables are unknown. Raw putrid meat, 
buttered tea, and barley-flour do not constitute a very appetiz- 
ing meal, but a march of thirty miles dulls the senses to every 
feeling except that of hunger, so I ate with avidity. ‘“‘ Satan,” 

L 


162. TO LHASA IN DISGUISE | 


as master, was able to purchase from the rest-house some 
Chinese delicacy, but as I was forced to eat in company with 
Tibetan peasants, I did not dare to secure any of this for 
myself. 

While Lhaten was getting out our barley and meat, [ 
whispered to him to secure the bottle of hair-dye as well. 
He did so and managed to hand it to me without anyone 
noticing the action. I at once hid it away inside of my bosom. 
Lhaten saw that I wanted a little time in private to use the 
dye, and while the others were reloading the mules, he ordered 
me in a loud voice to take up my load and go on ahead, as I 
was so confoundedly slow and he did not wish me to lag behind. 

I seized upon the hint and hobbled off as fast as I could. 
When out of sight of the farmhouse, I sat down and quickly 
repaired the damage which my beard had suffered earlier in 
the day, and at last I was able to discard my scarf, 


CHAPTER XIV 
; THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 


Not long afterwards’ the river crossed my path again. 
Coming towards me, on the other side, was a huge peasant 
accompanied by a tiny wife. The man was easily 6 feet 
3 inches.in height, while his wife must have been under 5 feet. 
The contrast was startling. In the central parts of Tibet the 
inhabitants generally are rather short, an inch or two under 
the average height in England, so I judged this fellow or his 
ancestors must have come from Kham, the great eastern 
province of Tibet, where most of the inhabitants are extremely 
tall, and many of them attain to even gigantic size. This 
giant peasant was obviously in a hurry, for he came along at 
a great pace, but with his immense stride he seemed to have no 
difficulty in covering the ground. Not so his poor wife, who, 
with her short steps, had literally to run in order to keep up 
with her spouse. He seemed little worried by her exertions, 
and occasionally gave her a push to make her go faster, so I 
was surprised at the gallantry he showed when he came to 
the river. The ice was here too thin to bear any weight and 
broke through at every footstep. Not in the least perturbed 
by this, and seeing his wife hesitate, he picked her up with 
one hand in a most casual fashion and, tucking her under 
his arm as if she were a sack of flour, carried her over and 
deposited her on dry ground not far off from where I was 
standing. 

I wished very much that I could be conveyed across in a 
similar fashion, but for me there was no help but to wade 
through the icy stream, the freezing water of which came 
up to my knees. I was afraid to take off my shoes and 
stockings, which as they became soaking wet made me feel 

163 


164 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


extremely uncomfortable afterwards, and I had to walk 
very fast to prevent the water which they retained from 
freezing. 

I now began to be overtaken by a number of mounted 
parties, who seemed to be riding to a village in the distance. 
All the members of these bands of travellers had on their 
*‘ Sunday-go-to-meeting ’’ clothes, made of silk imported from 
China. As they passed me they all stared very inquisitively, 
and certainly I must have presented a very drab appearance. 
As many of them obviously belonged to the official class, 
local headmen and landowners, against whom I had to be 
especially on my guard, I was afraid that their curiosity might 
lead them to more active steps of inquiry. So I decided to 
wait till my party came up, when I should have someone 
who could answer any questions, and so I departed from 
the road and lay hidden in a ditch until I heard the 
voices of Lhaten and “Satan” engaged, as usual, in a 
fierce argument. 

Thereafter our march continued for some time without 
further incident, save that before long the river had again to 
be crossed. Still suffering from the previous crossing, I 
heartily cursed the Tibetans for making their roads cross 
‘streams so frequently, particularly as at no place was there 
a bridge. “‘ Satan,” of course, on his pony, had no difficulty, 
and even the gyefo, or old Tibetan, who was still with us, 
mounted his loaded horse long enough to cross the stream 
with dry feet; but when I attempted to do the same with 
one of our mules, the sinful creature kicked out so lustily 
and made such a commotion that I was once more forced to 
wade through the icy water. 

Another hour and a half brought us to the village towards 
which I had seen the people riding. We found it an insig- 
nificant place depending for its existence upon the large 
monastery of Ragyimpa, which lay stretched up the side of 
the hill beyond. 

There seems to be a curious disposition of territory between 
castles, monasteries, and villages in Tibet. A village is nearly 
always placed on a flat plain or in a valley, but whenever 
possible at the foot of some mountain. A monastery is nearly 
always built on the slope of a mountain, neither on the top 


THE -.ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 165 


nor at the base, while the castles are nearly always placed at 
the very summit of a low-lying but precipitous hill. The site 
selected, whenever such can be found, is preferably a hill set 
in the middle of a plain, so that from the castle ramparts a 
clear sweep of the horizon may be obtained. 

The village we now entered was astir and we saw a large 
number of people going up to the monastery. There was 
obviously some great religious festival taking place, which had 
attracted people from all over the countryside. 

In this connection the relation that exists between the villages 
and the monasteries must-not be forgotten. 

The religious houses of Tibet are not temples, properly 
speaking, but monasteries, inside the walls of which are 
temples. These are the principal colleges of the monasteries, 
where the mysterious Tantrik rites and occult ceremonies 
of the Tibetan religion are taught and celebrated. 

Every morning the monks foregather in the temples for 
services, but no sermons are preached, except on rare special 
occasions. There are one or two minor exceptions to the above, 
such as, for example, the Cho-Kang at Lhasa. The religious’ 
officials of Tibet, therefore, are not rightly called priests; they 
are more correctly monks. There is no parochial work, and 
the monasteries and their temples are not for the inhabitants 
of neighbouring villages or towns, but for the monks them- 
selves and the novitiates. The village will have its shrine, or 
shrines, and its prayer-wheel perhaps, but the great religious 
house is built away from ordinary habitation, and while the 
sick or dying peasant will call in a holy man to read prayers, 
and maybe administer relic-pills, certain herbal medicines, and 
medizval concoctions, his messenger may have a ten-mile 
journey to the monastery. 

As already mentioned, the monasteries are built on hillsides. 
Sometimes the outer walls of the monastery will reach down 
to the valley, with the various buildings, attained by stone 
steps, stretching one over the other high up the mountain-side, 
the topmost building generally being the storehouse, where are 
kept huge quantities of dried flesh, goat, yak, sheep, and other 
carcases, etc., which are for the provisioning of the inmates. 

Within the enclosure, a great wall pierced by gates facing 
the cardinal points of the compass, are the dwelling-houses of 


166 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the monks, the colleges, and the great hall where worship is 
practised. This main hall, with its carving and frescoes, its 
roof supported by wooden pillars, carved and decorated, 
contains images of the Buddhas on engraved wooden and metal 
altars, before which butter-lamps are continually burning. 
Here, too, are the effigies of departed abbots (as at Gyangtsé) 
all along the walls, and the great picture of the Buddhist 
deities (as at Trashi Lhumpo), which are brought out in 
the months of June and November and hung on the 
outer walls. 

The tombs containing the embalmed bodies of head lamas 
long passed are within the walls; the libraries, offices, punish- 
ment-cells, shrines, and such buildings, all go to make up a 
small thriving township, with lanes and byways, and centrally 
situated the great courtyard or square, where take place the 
outdoor ceremonies and religious dances. _ 

About the hillsides on which the monastery stands are seen 
small solitary buildings, the isolated cells of contemplative 
monks, who dislike intrusion and interruption of their vigils, 
while at the foot, up against the great wall, are built the lodging- - 
houses and club-rooms for the monks and pilgrims who may 
come in from all parts of the country. These club-rooms 
are curious: the monks form themselves into societies or 
unions, and each such has its separate and distinct meeting- 
house. On the wall itself, and sometimes on the top of 
one of the main buildings, may be found chortens, or 
pagodas. | 

Over the monastery is set the chief lama, who, in the case of 
the larger and more important monastic communities, is him- 
self an incarnate Buddha, a personage of considerable power, 
and under him a number of assistant chief lamas. The ge- 
longs and other inmates of the monasteries form influential 
bodies politically, and do not refrain from violence in espousing 
this or that particular cause. Their numbers are extraordinary, 
the two large monasteries near Lhasa containing about 6,000 
(Sera) and 10,000 (Drepung) inmates. 

While the chief monasteries are largely endowed with lands, 
and are mainly stone-built—though sometimes sun-dried brick 
is used in construction—and imposing, the lesser gompas are 
poor, mean, and of no architectural importance, being oft-times 


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THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 167 


insignificant collections of buildings, or just a square block, 
housing a few monks. 

' Shortly after passing this point, we left the main-river course 
and went up a side-valley which led to the right. If we had 
followed the river to its mouth, we should have reached the 
Brahmaputra some miles to the west of Shigatsé, so we decided 
to take a short-cut which led over a mountain pass. Once 
more the road lay gradually uphill, but it was many weary 
hours before we reached the apex of the slope and the pass itself. 
On the way I commenced to be beset by new troubles, this time 
of a physical nature. 

So far my constitution had stood up wonderfully well under 
the enormous physical strain to which it had been subjected. 
I had appeared to be able to stand even more than my servants. 
The early symptoms of dysentery which I had experienced in 
the passes had worn off, I had hoped for good, but suddenly 
that afternoon they returned with increased vigour, and each 
new spasm seemed to sap all my strength. I began to fall 
behind the others, and only by a terrific effort of will was I able 
to force myself to go on in the endeavour to keep my party in 
sight. | 

To make matters worse, my feet began to suffer fearfully 
from blisters. The wetting which my shoes and my feet had 
had earlier in the day was probably responsible for most of the 
damage, for nothing makes for blisters more than walking in 
wet shoes. Finally, two of the blisters broke and the agony 
caused by the shoes rubbing against the raw flesh was too much 
for me: I pulled my shoes off and started to walk with bare 
feet. This scarcely improved matters, as the sharp stones cut 
_my feet badly and the lacerated soles left bloody footprints 
behind them. As night drew on, and the sun disappeared, the 
cold nipped at my toes and I was afraid I should fall into the 
plight of poor ‘‘ Diogenes,’’ who was now suffering terribly 
from his feet. But the terror of being left behind drove me on, 
and at last I came up with the others, who had waited for me 
just on the near side of the actual pass. 

The last two hundred yards were very precipitous, and we 
had great difficulty in getting our loaded animals over it. 
Poor “ London,’ the mule which had been limping for several 
days past, found the task impossible, so we had to unload her 


168 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


and distribute her burden over our own already-overtaxed 
backs—faithful old Lhaten taking the bulk of it. 

After incredible exertion, we eventually reached the top of 
the pass known as the Nambula. The whole of the Brahma- 
putra basin lies much lower than any other part of Tibet, 
so that even this steep pass was only 14,800 feet above sea- 
level. 

Unlike the gradual ascent on the hither, or south, side, the 
descent proved extraordinarily steep and very stony. As 
I was now able to move only very gingerly, I whispered to | 
Lhaten to go on ahead with “‘ Satan” and our companions, 
while the syce, ‘‘ Diogenes,’ and I brought up the rearguard. 
This was done, and when at last I got to the bottom of the 
slope and arrived at the village of Nambudzong, I found that 
the main party had been there some time and that everything 
was in readiness for our accommodation. 

The name Nambudzong implies the existence of a dzong, 
or castle, but I found that this was only a memory of 
the distant past, that the fortress had long fallen into 
decay and that the place was no longer the centre of an 
administration. 

Unlike most Tibetan houses, which are built avound a court- 
yard, the rest-house in which we were staying resembled more 
an English farmhouse, in that it was one compact building 
with the stables and storehouse in a wall-enclosed yard on the 
outside. 

On arriving, I found that the house was filled with people, 
and that one of the parties within consisted of a Kampa Dzong 
official and his suite on his way back from Shigatsé. I was so 
very anxious to avoid any such person, and felt so ill and so 
weary after our journey of over thirty miles, that I was in no 
mood for carrying on my disguise, and so I decided that, on 
the excuse of overcrowding, ‘‘ Diogenes ”’ and I should spend 
the next night in one of the stables near to the animals, and 
this plan was duly carried out. Poor Lhaten must have 
noticed my disgust for the raw flesh which I was supposed to 
eat, and he managed, in secret, to grill me some meat—mutton, 
of course—and his cooking was so good that it thoroughly 
disguised the offensive putrid taste which it otherwise would - 
have had. 


THE -ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 169 


Not long afterwards I fell into a long, heavy, but troubled 
sleep interspersed with nightmares. I began to cry out in my 
sleep, and ‘‘ Diogenes ”’ slumbering beside me, was awakened 
by the noise. In the circumstances he displayed more sense 
than I had given him credit for by waking me up, lest I should 
make some sound which might betray my nationality. 

The whole party was, I think, exhausted by the endeavour 
of the previous day, for the next morning we made, for 
Tibetans, a late start, it being nearly six o’clock before we 
moved off. Before our departure the syce, to whom I had 
communicated my troubles, bought for me a new pair of 
Tibetan boots, as I thought they would be softer than the 
shoés I had been wearing. 

In a few instances the Tibetan boots are made out of leather. 
Those which ‘‘ Diogenes” had bought in Kampa Dzong were 
of this order ; of a different shape and size, but also of leather, 
are the boots which most of the monks around Lhasa wear ; 
but for the most part Tibetan boots are made of closely- 
woven wool, with or without a thin layer of leather on 
the sole. 

They reach to a point a little below the knee, and are held 
up by two thin woollen bands, often prettily embroidered. 
The major part of these woollen boots is dyed red, but is 
frequently faced with sections of other colours. Variations 
in colour have in most cases a ceremonial significance. Priests’ 
boots, when made of wool, are of one pattern and colour, those 
made for laymen of another. In most cases those made for 
women are faced with green, a colour that seems reserved for 
the fairer sex. 

These woollen boots are very comfortable for wear indoors, 
but are less adequate for outdoor service. They absorb and 
retain water. The wind seems to penetrate through the pores 
of the wool, and finally the thinness of the sole allows every 
stone and pebble over which one walks to be felt. 

My new boots were indeed an improvement, but even they 
were so painful that I once more tried the experiment of 
going barefooted. But not for long; the reopening, by 
the stones, of the wounds of the preceding day was even 
more of a misery than the Tibetan boots, and so I pulled 
them on again. 


170 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


“Diogenes ’’ fared even worse than I did. The long 
journey had told cruelly on his frostbitten feet, and though 
he uttered scarcely a murmur and did his utmost to keep up 
with us, he began to lag behind. This did not please ‘‘ Satan ”’ 
at all, and he turned his pony round and, riding back, gave the 
miserable boy several lashes with his whip, and threatened 
even more dire punishments unless he kept up with the party. 
I felt deeply outraged at this callousness, but with our com- 
panions standing by there was nothing that I could do, and 
so I had to content myself with whispering to hint as he 
came up that, however severe his trials might be at present, 
I would liberally reward him when the adventure had come 
to an end. 

We soon found ourselves in a wide, flat valley, and the face 
assumed a more prosperous appearance. Another mile or 
two farther on our road ran into and joined the great highway 
which runs from Shigatsé to the west. Along this rolls the 
stream of traffic which connects Central Tibet with the upper 
portions of the Brahmaputra River and the sacred Manasarowar 
Lakes, where go every year thousands of people on pilgrimage. 
Still farther beyond this Tibetan “‘ Mecca,” the highway runs 
until it reaches Leh, in Ladak, and even into the dreamy 
Valley of Kashmir. 

It is indeed the high-road of enchantment, and once we were 
on it we met, or were passed by, a steady stream of traffic. 
There flew past us a swift Government courier carrying messages 
and orders to far-away Governors in the unknown west. We 
had no fear that he would stop to parley with us, for by a 
system of relay horses he was bound to cover a hundred miles 
a day. _Buxom matrons, living in some village lying near, were 
returning from marketing in Shigatsé, each covered with cheap 
trinkets and bright-coloured beads, which she had purchased 
after enormous bargaining at some open stall. Some came 
riding sedately on ponies and mules, and others trudged sturdily 
along in twos and threes, and compared trinket with trinket 
and talked volubly of the prices they had paid for each, and of 
the marvellous reductions they had secured as the result of 
their ready wit and voluble tongue. Then we would overtake 
a small body of Nepalese workers in metal, who had been sent 
for by the Grand Lama himself to cast a bell for his monastery, 


THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 171 


for which the cunning of his own craftsmen was not sufficient ; 
then a body of Kashmiri Mohammedans, taking advantage of 
their proud privilege to bring rare goods in great mule-caravans 
for sale to the aristocracy of Shigatsé and Lhasa; pilgrims 
galore, going in either direction, spinning their prayer-wheels 
and telling their rosaries at a dizzy speed, monks and laymen 
alike. There came also trotting by, on a long lank mare, the 
bursar of a monastery, lean and hard of face, out to collect rents 
for his establishment and to drive a cruel bargain as a money- 
lender on his own. 

Small caravans of every. sort, with yaks, mules, ponies, and 
donkeys, passed by : donkeys were particularly noticeable, for 
in this part of Tibet local traffic is largely carried on by their 
means. Tiny things they are, but many a peasant went riding 
by on one: the man twice the size of the animal, and only 
having to stand up to be free of his mount; and last, but 
exceedingly interesting, a herd of sheep, also used to transport 
heavy loads, for Tibetan sheep are strong and are frequently 
used as beasts of burden. 

The interest of the highway and its travellers helped to while 
away the long dreary hours of the morning march, but I was 
nearly dropping from fatigue and weakness when at last we 
stopped at a little village not far from the famous Nartang 
Monastery, which we could see quite clearly from the road. 

Nartang owes its fame to its printing-press. Here are 
printed most of the books which are to be found in every 
respectable monastery throughout the land. Lhasa has also 
its printing-press, and some Tibetan books are printed in the 
Lama Monastery of Peking, but neither of these places can vie 
with Nartang for fame. 

Tibet has a large literature, but almost all of it of a religious 
character, and a large part of it consists of translations of works 
originally written in India in Sanskrit. The originals of these 
works have, in most cases, been lost, so that the students of 
ancient Indian literature, history, customs, and thought must 
turn to the Tibetan canon for purposes of research. 

There are a large number of isolated and individual works, 
but most of the better-known and more authoritative works are 
incorporated in two collections or canons, called “ Kangyur ”’ 
and ‘‘ Tengyur.” . me | 


172 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


The “ Kangyur ”’ [/it. ‘ Bkah-gyur,” or ‘‘ The Rendering of 
the Word ”’ of the Buddha himself] consists of 100 (sometimes 
printed as 108) volumes of approximately a thousand pages 
each, and comprises 1,083 separate works. All of these are 
translated from Sanskrit, a few indirectly through Chinese, and 
are supposed to be a record of the actual discourses of the 
historical Buddha, though the Higher Criticism will not allow 
this claim for an instant. Thirteen volumes deal with the 
vinaya, or canon law affecting the discipline and organization 
of the monks, while the remaining volumes consist of very 
long-winded discourses upon religion and morals. 

The ‘“‘ Tengyur ” [Jit. ‘‘ Bstan-gyur,” or “‘ Rendering of the 
(Traditional) Teachings ’’] is usually printed in 225 volurnes, 
and is the official commentary and interpretation given of the 
“ Kangyur.’”’ This collection also consists of a large number 
of separate works. Many of them were composed by 
Nagayuna, Asamgha, and Vasubandhu, and others consist of 
original works written by prominent Tibetan worthies. This — 
collection shows us something of the rational and philosophical 
side of Buddhism. The crudities and absurdities of the 
“ Kangyur ”’ are softened down. In addition to works of a 
purely exegetical and philosophical nature, the “ Tengyur ”’ 
contains books dealing with music, grammar, rhetoric, prosody, 
medicine, mechanics, and alchemy, all of which formed part of 
Buddhism in its medizval development. 

Most of these works were translated or composed between 
the ninth and the fourteenth century A.D., the period of 
Tibet’s greatest literary achievements. Modern literature is 
very scrappy and inferior, and consists chiefly of pious tracts 
and biographies of various important lamas. 

As we were halting only for an hour, we had once more to 
content ourselves with eating in the courtyard, instead of 
withdrawing to the privacy of a room above. One of the sons 
of the nemo, a youth of about eighteen years of age, hearing that 
we came from Sikkim, took a lively interest in us, but in quite 
a friendly way. In fact, he was infected with the Wanderlust, 
and asked “‘ Satan ”’ to engage him as an extra servant in order 
that he might travel along and see the country and eventually 
return with us to Sikkim. From Sikkim he had even thoughts 
of going down into India, where the terrible Chiling kyt mt 


THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 173 


(foreigners, i.e. English) live, and he wanted to know if we had 
met any, and whether they were as terrible as all the stories of 
them made out. I rather liked the boy for his general bright- 
ness and interest in life, in contrast to the sodden, sullen 
stupidity which characterizes most of the population, but 
to take him along with us was out of the question: even 
“Satan,’’ in spite of his high-handedness, saw this, and 
put him off. 

* Diogenes,’’ the gyepo, and I departed earlier than the others, 
leaving ‘them to pay the bill and to reload the animals. As 
we passed down the village street, I felt so stupefied by the 
prospect of another long afternoon’s march that I scarcely 
noticed a méndang, or prayer-wall, in the middle of the street 
and started to pass to the right of it. I had still my dark 
goggles on, and the old man, believing implicitly in the story 
that I was still half blind as the result of the snow, shouted out 
to me that the prayer-wall existed and that I was passing it 
on the wrong side. This startled me into my right senses, 
and I quickly swerved to the left, passing the sacred wall in 
orthodox fashion. 

In Tibet respect to a person or thing is shown by always 
keeping it on one’s right-hand side. In circumambulating 
any religious edifice—and this is considered an act of great 
merit—it is proper always to pass round from left to right, 
“ clock-wise,’’ which is also the direction in which the prayer- 
wheel should be turned. Any deviation from this rule is 
considered an act of outrageous blasphemy. 

These prayer-walls are very common in Tibet. They 
consist of a thick stone or sun-dried brick wall, of varying 
length, sometimes a few yards long and sometimes stretching 
for a quarter of a mile or more. They are frequently placed 
in the middle of the high-road, so that travellers may acquire 
merit merely by passing them in the prescribed way. In some 
cases prayer-wheels are set in the walls, and in nearly all 
cases the sides are ornamented with sacred inscriptions, or 
with bas-relief sculptures representing various Buddhas and 
Bodhisattvas. 

As it is considered an act of great merit to erect such a 
prayer-wall, they are to be seen in the neighbourhood of 
nearly every village. 


174 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Thereafter the course of the afternoon’s march went fairly 
smoothly. The other members of the party caught us up, 
and we journeyed on and on, though at every moment I thougsit 
I would have to give up. 

A great sturdy drokpa fell in with us, and journeyed with us 
a good part of the way. Instead of the ordinary clothes made 
of woven wool which are worn by the townsfolk and the 
villagers, this fellow’s clothes were entirely of sheep’s fur, the 
skin on the outside and the fur next to his skin. His coat was 
also much shorter than those worn by the townsmen, only 
reaching to his hips, so that his Brose of the same material, 
were very much in evidence. 

He was nearly six feet tall, pha a long sword, and. was 
extremely fierce-looking, and most of our party were much 
afraid of him; but he soon embarked on amiable conversation 
and gradually told us his life-story. He confessed that in 
addition to looking after his flocks on the Chang Tang, he had 
frequently acted as a brigand, and had amassed quite a little 
fortune in that way. Recently he had fallen very ill, and 
believing his disease to be a punishment from the gods, he had 
decided to come on pilgrimage to Shigatsé and thereby wipe 
out his sins, without in any way having to get rid of his ill- 
gotten gains. 

He kept alongside of us for some time, but as our progress 
was slow and he wanted to get to the city before nightfall, he 
left us later. 

In the middle of the plain we came across another wide, 
shallow river, but this time, learning by experience, I took off 
my boots before crossing it, and consequently did not experience 
the same ill-effects asthe preceding day. Laterin the afternoon 
we came to the end of the valley plain and had to ascend another 
pass. This was not nearly so difficult or so steep, but as the 
result of the dysentery my weakness had come on me so fast 
that I had to hold on to the tail of “ Satan’s ’’ pony and be 
almost pulled up the incline. 

Once we were over the top, however, I felt rewarded for all 
the misery which I had undergone, for there at the end of the 
valley, only some five miles away, we could see the huge mass 
of buildings constituting Trashilhumpo, the famous Shigatsé 
monastery. The city of Shigatsé itself was hidden behind a 


THE ROAD OF ENCHANTMENT 175 


hill a mile or so farther on, but I knew then that at last we had 
come to the end of the first stage of our journey, and that even 
if we never got to Lhasa, the adventure would not have been 
altogether in vain. 


CHAPTER XV 


SHIGATSE ONWARD 


0 


AT the foot of the Trashilhumpo ‘Monastery there is a tiny 
village. In this our two Tibetan companions had a house. 
By this time we had become such friends that they invited 
us to make use of it during our stay in Shigatsé instead 
of going to a rest-house in the city proper. The invitation 
we gladly accepted. We decided to spend the whole 
of the next day (February 6) in Shigatsé in order to give 
ourselves and the animals a much-needed rest. We thus 
had the opportunity of looking about the city and entering 
the monastery, to which so many thousands of pilgrims 
come every year. 

Central Tibet consists of two provinces, of Tsang in the west 
and U (spelt Dbugs) in the east. The capital of the former is 
Shigatsé, of the latter Lhasa. Not long ago the two provinces 
were practically independent states, and the abbot of the 
Trashilhumpo Monastery is still the titular king of Tsang, 
though now the Lhasa officials have managed to secure complete 
control over this province as well as the other. Politically, 
therefore, the Dalai Lama is greater than the Trashi Lama, 
but religiously the two great abbots rank as equal. Owing 
to the greater spiritual character of the Trashi Lama, many 
Tibetans regard the Dalai Lama as merely the secular and the 
Trashi Lama as the spiritual ruler of Tibet. I was, therefore, 
delighted to hear that he would pass in procession through the 
streets that afternoon, and by standing amongst the worship- 
ping crowd I managed to catch a glimpse of him. He was a 
man with a very gentle and refined appearance, with a look 
almost of shyness that fitted in well with his character as this 
was reported, and with his post. The Trashilhumpo Monastery 

176 


SHIGATSE ONWARD 177 


is generally considered the best-conducted in Tibet. It is 
famous for its learning and attracts numerous monkish students 
_ from all parts of the country, who seek to obtain the highly- 
prized degree which it bestows. At present it numbers between 
4,000 and 5,000 monks. 

On the same day we purchased an aged donkey in the hope 
of lightening our load for the remainder of the journey. In the 
evening our hosts arranged to give us a farewell banquet. The 
“ banquet ”’ consisted of larger quantities of the same food as 
heretofore, this being washed down by copious draughts of 
liquor. The Tibetans have two staple intoxicating drinks. 
The first is chang, a mild beer brewed from barley, very refresh- 
ing afteralong journey. The second is avak (not to be confused 
with spirit of the same name known in other parts of the world), 
the distilled form of chang. This latter is frightfully strong, and 
generally proves too much even for hardened drinkers. 

The avak very nearly proved our undoing. The evening 
started in very jovial fashion. Broad jests with hilarious 
Tibetan folk-songs followed one another in quick succession, 
and the whole company soon became very maudlin. Both 
Lhaten and “Satan” would drink only arak, despising the 
weaker chang. They soon lost control of themselves, and 
having become hopelessly drunk, chose this moment to start a 
violent quarrel. From words they came to blows, and in the 
end had to be forcibly separated. In the heat of their anger 
they forgot their assumed réles, and both appealed to me as 
master to settle their dispute. I was nearly wild with terror 
of being discovered, and if our hosts had not been such simple- 
minded folk they would soon have grasped the true situation, 
but in the end everything calmed down. 

It was nearly one o’clock before everything was quiet once 
more, but a calm sleep was impossible. I had no idea as to 
how much of the situation the spectators may have understood, 
and it was possible that they were only waiting for daylight to 
inform the Shigatsé authorities of their suspicions. This fear 
grew so strong in me, that, although I was mortally tired, as 
soon as it began to get light, and long before the actual sunrise 
took place, I got up and whispered to Lhaten that it was 
imperative for us to get on the move at once. We got the 
mules and the new donkey loaded and only woke “ Satan” 

M 


+ 


178 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


when we were on the point of departure, and then hoisted him 
into his saddle and on the road before he was sufficiently aetna 
to expostulate effectively. 

Our road led right under the monastery and ie the 
city. Early as it was when we passed by the monastery we 
could hear the low hum from a service taking place in the great 
central hall—the services in a properly-conducted monastery 
begin between three and four in the morning—and we con- 
stantly met pilgrims making a circumambulation of the whole 
monastery in the prescribed “‘ clock-wise’’ fashion. “As they 
did so some turned their prayer-wheels and others told their 
rosaries—the rosary, generally with 108 beads, being much 
valued by every branch of Tibetan Buddhism, Some of the 
devotees were making the round at great speed, while others 
stopped to make frequent prostrations. 

We then passed through the heart of the city, once more seeing 
the great dzong, which towers on high, and then struck to the 
right down to the Nyang River. 

To the right of us lay the Chinese graveyard, where several 
hundred Chinese lay buried—an apt symbol of the extinct 
suzerainty of China over Tibet. Some of these graves were old, 
and covered the bodies of the Chinese who had suffered a natural 
death during the old days prior to 1912, when there was a 
garrison of Chinese soldiers and a small body of Chinese traders 


in Shigatsé. An even larger number of graves, however, were 


filled by the Chinese inhabitants who were killed in the Tibetan 
revolt of.1912, when Tibet declared her absolute independence 
of China, and gave effect to this declaration by killing off as 
many of the Celestials as possible and forcing the remainder to 


. return immediately back to the territory of the new Chinese 


Republic. 

For the most part these graves marked the resting-places of 
middle- and lower-class Chinese. When a high official died, 
his coffin was generally transported back to China, for it is the 
highest ambition of every Chinaman, however far he may 
wander during his lifetime, to sleep the long sleep of the dead 
in his native land. 

Curiously enough, there is no Tibetan graveyard in Shigatsé 
or, for that matter, anywhere else, for the Tibetans do not go 
in for burials. A few of the very highest lamas are embalmed 


‘ie SHIGATSE ONWARD 179 


and.are then gilded, to be placed in some temple to serve as an 
object-of worship. A few other lamas, of high but lesser rank, 
are cremated in accordance with the old Indian Buddhist 
custom ; but wood is too scarce in Tibet to allow cremation to 
be practised extensively, and so the Tibetans have evolved 
their own methods of disposing of the dead. 

_ In certain instances thé flesh is fed to the pigs and dogs; 
kites and vultures join in the feast. Thé dogs are pariahs 
which roam about every Tibetan town and Village scavenging. 
They are far different from the fierce mastiff breed of canine 
used as guardians and for hunting. 

The graveyards are special places set aside for funeral cere- 
monies. Here the dead bodies are brought out, spread on a 
large stone slab face downwards, and hacked to pieces, to be 
fed to the carrion birds and animals. To assure a good rebirth, 


it is considered advisable that the corpse be devoured by birds’ 


rather than by quadrupeds, and members of a rascally tribe 
of beggars, known as “‘ Ragyabas,’”’ who haunt the cemeteries, 
will hire themselves out to keep off the four-footed scavengers 
till the kites and vultures put in appearance, which is not 
tardy, for they sense the dead from afar and foregather 
quickly. 

The first portion hacked off the dead body is fed to the oldest 


vulture of the flock, which will waddle forward to receive its _ 


reward when called. The birds are extremely tame, and 
respond individually to the cry of the officiating lama. The 
““Ragyabas’”’ complete the dismembering of*the body. Some- 
times the remains are buried, but this is an expensive business ; 


more frequently the bones, and scraps left after the pigs have 


gorged, will be interred where possible. 

Before long we reached the river and crossed the clumsy 
bridge which spans it. Both Shigatsé and Gyangtsé stand on 
the Nyang River, and that morning I saw the same stream as 
that which I had waded in at Gyangtsé several months 
earlier. <t 

Shigatsé is supposed to be situated at the junction of the 
Nyang and Brahmaputra Rivers, but really it is placed on the 
Nyang itself, four miles from its confluence. The Tibetans, 
in spite of their architectural precocity, have never arrived at 
the use of the arch. All their doorways are supported by a 


180 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


single beam resting on two pillars. This has proved no great 
handicap in their house-building, but in bridges it seems that — 
a single span can never be more than ten yards across, so 
that supporting mounds have to be placed in the river- 
bed every few feet. When the stream is rapid, these | 
supports are not infrequently washed away and have to 
be replaced. } 

This particular bridge is called the Sampa Shar, or Eastern 
Bridge, and is some 350 yards in length and-7 or 8 yards in 
breadth. Slabs of earth-covered stones are placed’ on the 
long wooden boards spanning the earthen supports. 

“Satan ’”’ was still in a very bad temper. He must have 
realized how much he had jeopardized the adventure, for he 
took refuge in abusing the others. Fortunately he and I were 
alone at the time, and I purposely kept him ahead of the party 
until such time as everyone should have forgotten the events 
of the preceding night. 

I had a very good mind to tell him what I thought of 
him, but I felt that to lose my temper in the circumstances 
would be useless, so I contented myself with a few delicately- 
phrased hints as to how such things should be done in the 
futures 6°. 

What particularly angered me was that he decided to change 
hats with me that morning. Without a word of warning—I 
was walking beside his pony—he seized my hat and placed his 
own on my head, saying that, as mine was the finer-looking 
cap, it was necessary for him to wear it, and nothing that I 
could say would make him give it me back. What made my 
cap so fine were the fur flaps, which could be pulled down and 
which, though something of a luxury for a coolie, served very 
effectively to mask my head and face. “ Satan’s”’ cap was 
without these flaps, and I felt much less safe init. It is curious 
how much of the ostrich there is in man: as long as my head 
was swathed in leather flaps I felt content. 

When at last our transport and the other servants caught 
up with us, a few Billingsgate compliments were hurled at one 
another by both parties, but the long morning walk had dulled 
the edge of our tempers and I managed to patch up the peace. 
Our two Shigatsé friends we had left behind, and we had 
not yet fallen in with another caravan, so, at least for 


THE 
TRASHI LAMA 








7 
SHIGATSE: PROCESSION WITH THE PALANQUIN OF THE TRASHI LAMA 





- . 
ee ee 
¥ A . 
\ 





' SHIGATSE ONWARD 181 


the time being, we did not have to wash our dirty linen in 
public. 

We did, indeed, meet a number of people on the road, but 
for the most part these were local travellers, and we met no 
one who was either going to or returning from Lhasa, for we 
had once more departed from the highway and were taking 
a short-cut. The official roadway from Shigatsé to Lhasa 
makes a long detour. Instead of following the Brahmaputra 
River, the couriers and most travellers go down from Shigatsé 
to Gyangtsé and then from Gyangtsé strike once more north-east 
to Lhasa. But I had no intention of passing through Gyangtsé 
again, and so we stuck to the short-cut, which for some extra- 
ordinary reason is very little used. 

I had been so busy in Shigatsé trying to see and learn as 
much as possible that my stay there had given me very little 
real rest, and the excitement of the previous night had done 
me little good physically. As a result, not many miles after 
leaving Shigatsé I became so weary that I began to stumble 
in my tracks. Even “ Satan ’”’ noticed how near I was to the 
end of my resources, and when we came to a long stretch where 
no one was visible he suggested that I ride the pony for a bit, 
while he walked. This sudden display of warm-heartedness 
on his part really surprised me, and I took it for an indirect 
apology for the rumpus which he had caused the preceding 
evening. | 

I gladly accepted his invitation, but it seemed as if some 
angry fate was against me, for I had scarcely gone a hundred 
yards when “‘ London,” the ailing mule, suddenly succumbed. 
She had seemed much better for the rest and good food in 
Shigatsé, so that her sudden collapse was very unexpected. 
We had now lost three out of the six animals with which we had 
started, and we were still several days away from Lhasa. The 
load which our new donkey was carrying consisted largely of 
bundles which the two remaining mules were now too weak to 
bear, so there was nothing to be done except for me to climb 
down from my seat on the pony and to put the mule’s load on 
to his back, while all of us walked. We stood over the fallen 
mule for some time, trying to find out if anything could be 
done, but shortly after she died, her last act being to launch 
a vigorous kick at the syce’s shins. This had its required 


182 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


effect and the syce danced around in agony, so I think the 
mule must have died happy. 

Thereafter our march continued for mile after mile without 
incident. The feeling that I had to get on kept me on my feet. 
Thick heads and swollen, thirsty tongues made the journey 
unpleasant for the others as well, but it was noon before we 
came to a halting-place. This consisted of a small farmer’s 
hut, one-storied and indescribably filthy, but we were allowed 
to enter the main room of the house adjoining the courtyard 
instead of remaining outside, as was usual for a midday halt, 
and I lay down for an hour and rested my weary bones. In 
the middle of the room there was already a pot of tea boiling, 
so we did not even have to light a fire before sitting down to 
a meal. The mixed cooking of Shigatsé was behind us, and 
we returned once more to a diet of tea, barley-flour, and raw 
meat. | 

The tea we drank out of the bowls we brought with us. 
Every Tibetan takes his own teacup along with him, carried 
with other articles in his capacious bosom. This is curiously 
in accord with modern sanitary ideas of individual drinking- 
cups. 

“‘ Satan,’’ as the master, drank his tea out of a very elaborate 
affair. The top, or cover, and the stand, or saucer, consisted 
of finely-beaten silver, while the cup itself (without handles, 
of course, for no Tibetan cups have handles) consisted of earthen- 
ware. In some cases the cups of the wealthy are made from © 
porcelain, glass, or even from precious jade. 

As servant, I had to be content with a simple wooden bowl 
with neither top nor stand. 

Before leaving, we purchased from the good housewife 
another donkey, thinking thereby to ease our journey. Once 
more our hopes ran high, but before long we found that we had 
been badly ‘‘ done.’’ Our new friend became more and more 
slow in his paces and finally refused to go any farther. We 
lightened his load and applied our whips, but he seemed to 
remain in a state of meditation on the ineffable. After we 
had gone only two or three miles, and shortly after we had 
passed through the village of Pengma, the crisis came; our 
obstinate purchase refused to be dragged or flogged another 
step onward. 


SHIGATSE ONWARD 183 


I thought perhaps that he had been overworked earlier in 
the day, before he was sold to us, or that he had not been given 
sufficient food, so after a long discussion we agreed to let him 
have a night’s respite, and all of us turned back and halted for 
the night at the village of Pengma. 

The villagers here turned out to be an unusually surly lot. 
We tried at two or three rest-houses to get lodgings, but they 
were already crowded, and we were ordered gruffly away. 
Finally we were taken in at a place which was already housing 
a number of monks on their way back from Shigatsé to their 
own monastery some miles farther down the river. They were 
drinking very heartily and making such a noise that I thought 
it better to camp in one of the stalls in the courtyard rather than 
attempt the common-room with them. Once back in their 
own monastery, they would have to lead a much calmer life, 
where drinking was strictly prohibited, so that they were 
probably having a last fling before returning to comparative 
respectability. 

Even in their festivities, however, they remained sullen. 
Each village in Tibet seems to strike a keynote of its own, and 
certainly that of Pengma was sullenness. I was disturbed to 
find one embarrassing exception to this rule. The nemo, or 
landlady, of the rest-house was a portly woman of about forty 
years of age. In accordance with Tibetan custom she had 
already five legal husbands, but she seemed, for some extra- 
ordinary reason, to find my appearance very pleasing, so that 
in addition to playing the part of lama to my servants, of a 
servant to the outside world, I had now to take on a new part 
and play Joseph to Potiphar’s wife. 

As in Tibet both winking “ the glad eye”’ and kissing are 
unknown, it can be seen from this how backward is the state 
of Tibetan culture. I had often wondered how flirtation was 
carried on, but I had no intention of finding out by too much 
first-hand experience, and so I extricated myself out of my 
difficulty as soon as I could. The filthiness which my lady 
friend shared with all Tibetan women made it more than easy 
to resist temptation. 

Both polyandry and polygamy are practised in Tibet, and 
monogamy has but few supporters. The different practices 
are somewhat affected by conditions in various parts of the 


184 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


country, but the traditional joint-ownership of family property 
is probably the strongest factor in the fixing of marital 
relationships. 

It is common for the wife taken by the eldest son of the family 
to become the joint property of all the brothers, who share 
responsibility. However, should a brother leave the family, 
he is not entitled to compensation in respect of his share in the 
wife. In fact, the relationship of the younger brothers to the 
wife exists only so long as they remain in the family. 

There are occasions when the father or uncle of the husband 
claims to live with the wife, and even—but as a general rule 
only in higher circles—the father’s part-possession and marital 
rights are recognised. It is less frequent that a woman 
acknowledges husbands of two or more different families, 
but examples of this form of polyandry are also to be 
found. 

The origin of the Tibetan form of polyandry, with its 
desire to preserve the family property intact, is said to have 
been with the Khams, and that the natives of the other 
Tibetan provinces of Tsang and U developed the practice later. 
This may well be so, for while amongst the Khams it is to all 
intents and purposes universal, in the other two provinces it 
is not so widely general. The womenfolk defend polyandry on 
the ground that it gives the female more importance in the 
community, and while polygamy is not unknown, the women 
of the higher grades rather despise the comparatively help- 
less women of India and the polygamic rule under which 
they live. 

It is not a difficult matter to obtain divorce in Tibet, provided 
the injured party desiring to sever the matrimonial bond is 
prepared to pay for the accommodation. The divorce “ fees ”’ 
vary according to circumstances, but are governed by definite 
laws. Should the husband desire to rid himself of his wife, 
and make charges against her which are groundless, and the 
wife is still content to live with her husband, he must pay to 
her twelve gold sho (equal to about ninety rupees), and in 
addition make over to her six pounds of barley for every day, 
and an equal amount for every night, she has been with him 
since the wedding-day. All presents made to the wife since 
the wedding-day, or a sum equivalent to their value, must be 


YALHONAVG GNV AAHLOW “SLVAOOLSTAV NVLAEIL SSHNd WIVD NI SSHONINd NVLYASIL V 








a 





= 





“SHIGATSE ONWARD 185 


given to her, and she may retain all jewellery given her by her 
relatives. 

When the wife seeks divorce, and the husband is found 
blameless and prepared to continue living with her, to obtain 
her freedom she must pay an amount of money or goods equal 
to double her settlement ; but should the husband’s innocence 
remain in doubt, the wife may pay him only a suit of clothes and 
a pair of boots, bed-carpet, rug, and a scarf, the husband 
handing his wife a scarf, or some other article agreed on. 

On divorce, the husband takes the male offsprings of the 
marriage, and the wife the female offsprings, and the man, if 
well enough off, may be charged to contribute to the upkeep 
of his daughters ; while, should the wife have property, she will 
have to consider the welfare of her sons. 

These general arrangements apply more to the upper classes ; 
they are much modified in the lower ranks. Where a man of 
aristocratic rank has married a woman of meaner grade, but 
with a distinct understanding as to equal possessions, the 
property is divided at a dissolution of marriage with a regard 
to the degree of erring on either side. There are, however, so 
many forms of marriage that these terms are liable to consider- 
able modification. For instance, the master decides the 
destiny of serfs, and where a female of this class marries she 
may be cast off with one-sixth part of her husband’s goods 
when she fails to be an asset in his household. Then there are 
the temporary, generally pleasure marriages, the dissolution 
of which is followed by an equal division of property. Divorce 
does not invalidate the man or woman’s chances of remarriage. 
The one and the other are facilitated by the circumstances which 
prevail. 

I was now in completely unknown country, unmapped even 
by the native spies who were sent out during the last century 
by the Indian Government to make secret surveys of Tibet. 
Consequently I made a great point of noticing as many 
geographical details as possible. Owing to my disguise, a 
regular survey was out of the question, but as it was a moon- 
light night, I stayed awake long after the others had fallen 
asleep in order to make some sketch-maps of the country 
through which we had passed, and to enter up the events of 
the last few days in my diary ; such things had to be done in 


186 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


this way or not at all. In the daytime I was constantly in 
the sight of various Tibetans, and at night-time there was no 
artificial light. Even so, great secrecy was needed, and every 
time anyone moved in his sleep I had to hide away my writing- 
pad under my blanket, fearing lest he wake and wonder at 
my accomplishment. 

Our journey this day had been so short, only sixteen miles 
or so, that we were anxious to make up for lost time, and once 
more started off at two-thirty the next morning. We kept 
on at a steady pace until daybreak, having only the ‘vaguest 
idea from the murmur of the river to the left of us of where 
we were going. Early as we were, we yet met occasional 
parties on the road, donkey-caravans for the most part. The 
Tibetan seems to be as casual about his time of travelling as 
to his eating. If he feels in the mood, he travels all night and 
sleeps all day, and there was never a single hour of the night or 
day in which I could be certain of meeting no one on the road. 

Our chief difficulty was with the occasional small streams 
which run into the Brahmaputra. These were nearly all 
frozen fast, and we had our usual trouble in getting over the 
slippery surface, though we had become somewhat experts 
at the game by now and managed to get our caravan over 
without accident. 

Not long before daylight we ceased to hear the river, but 
as we seemed to be following a well-beaten track we went 
straight on. Dawn showed us that we had a low line of hills 
instead of the Brahmaputra on our left. This worried us, but 
thinking that we were making a detour we continued our 
march for another hour. At the end of this time we met a 
peasant who told us that we had quite lost the way and were 
going up a side-valley, so we had to retrace our steps some 
distance, going back to the mouth of the valley. 

We lost about seven miles in this way. ‘“‘ Satan,’ as usual, 
lost his temper and blamed everybody but himself for the 
misfortune. Finally he decided to vent his spleen on 
‘“‘ Diogenes,”” and began to beat him unmercifully with his 
stick. The Tibetan peasant was still about, so I dared give 
no vigorous command, but it was impossible for me to stay 
there and let the boy be so cruelly beaten, so I threw myself 
in between the pair, and this forced Lhaten and the syce to 


SHIGATSE ONWARD 187 


come to the rescue. They dragged “ Satan” off, swearing 
all sorts of vengeance. 

“‘ Satan ’’ was not the only one who seemed to be upset at 
the fruitlessness of the early-morning journey. The miserable 
donkey which we had bought the day before had been coaxed 
to come so far, but of a sudden recommenced his old tricks and 
refused to budge one step more. Flogging was of no avail. 
I thought he must be shamming, and twisted his tail to make 
him show an interest in life, but even this proved fruitless, 
and after literally dragging him along as so much deadweight 
for another mile, we gave it up as a bad job and abandoned 
him by the roadside, once more adding another load—that 
which he had been carrying—to our own. Under these 
circumstances, even “‘ Satan ’’ was forced to walk in order 
that his pony might carry a portion of our burden, but he was 
careful to point out that it would be inadvisable for him to 
bear any load himself, as such a course would be entirely out 
of keeping with the rdéle it was necessary for him to play. 

Arrived back at the Brahmaputra, we were able to strike 
out once more on the right road: our peasant informant 
stayed with us up to this point. I now discovered why we 
had gone astray. For the most part mountain ranges ran 
parallel to the river-bed, on either side, some three or four 
miles away from the water’s edge ; but occasionally a mountain 
spur would run out at right-angles from the general range and 
come down near the main stream. This made the country 
bear a resemblance to the general basin-formation, except 
that we saw only half-basins, as the river had eaten through 
a gap in the mountain watershed between the basins. 

Here the hill came right down to the water’s edge and 
we had actually to wade through the stream in order to get 
around it. 

Not long after rounding the spur, we came on to another 
plain, set in which was a large monastery. This was very 
interesting to me, because it was the first monastery I had seen 
which was not built on the side of a hill. It is also quite a 
famous place historically, and it is said that its library contains 
very old and interesting manuscripts. 

The ancient manuscripts of Tibet consist of writings in both 
Sanskrit and Tibetan and very occasionally in Chinese, 


188 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Contrary to popular supposition, there are no Pali manuscripts 
in the country, as Buddhism had long rid itself of the Pali 
literary tradition before Tibet came under its influence. 

Nearly all of these remains, if of any value, date from the 
period previously mentioned, the ninth to the fourteenth 
century A.D. To the scholar they are chiefly of value because 
many of them were not incorporated in either of the two great 
canonical collections, the ‘‘ Kangyur”’ and the ‘ Tengyur,” 
and are otherwise unknown. 

The greatest interest is attached to the Sanskrit manuscripts 
which were brought from India. In many cases these were 
the originals from which the canonical translations were 
made, and as these originals have elsewhere disappeared, 
they are eagerly sought by bibliophiles in every part of 
the world. 

It was quite impossible to attempt to secure any such manu- 

scripts on the present occasion, and we continued on our way 
until we came to the little village of Rugu, where we halted 
for our breakfast-lunch, a real college ‘‘ brunch,” as far 
as the purpose the meal served. 
_ I was so tired that, instead of stopping in the courtyard, 
I insisted on going up to the living-room upstairs, where I 
laid down while Lhaten prepared the food, for I felt too ill 
to act in my capacity of assistant cook. 

Fortunately there were no other travellers about, but later 
the nemo, or landlady, came up to talk to us and to tell us all 
about the local scandal. 

She had a good deal to say about the local abbot, who was 
considered to be an “ incarnation of deity,” and the troubles 
which he was having. 

He had, of course, been chosen as the true incarnation and 
appointed abbot when he was still an infant, and during his 
minority the power had been exercised by one of the senior 
monks. Even when the young “ divine ruler’”’ came of age, 
the regent was very unwilling to renounce his power, and a 
bitter enmity sprang up between the two as to who was to have 
the real control of the affairs of the monastery. 

The regent, as the older and craftier man, had proved 
successful, and in wrath the incarnate abbot had resigned his 
post and left the temple. | 


- SHIGATSE ONWARD 189 


I was very much interested to learn that an incarnate and 
reincarnate abbot could resign his job, and asked our gossipy 
informant what had become of him. : 

She answered that he had received an invitation from another 
monastery to become its head, and had ordained that thereafter 
he would be reborn as the abbot of the new temple, rather than 
as the ruler of the temple from which he had been ejected. 

This little incident was of great interest to me, as it threw 
fresh light on the way in which the Tibetans regard and regu- 
late thé institution of reincarnated divine rulers. 

Before leaving Rugu we tried to get another donkey, but our 
bargain of the previous day had warned us to be on our guard, 
and in this mood we could not find an animal which was to 
our satisfaction. All really usable and saleable countryside 
animals are sent to the animal market in the near-by large 
towns, in this case Shigatsé, and we found it a hopeless task 
looking for suitable beasts in the villages. 

We had brought with us the wooden pack-saddle of the dead 
mule, hoping to find another mount on which to use it, and 
when I realized the unlikelihood of getting another suitable 
transport animal, I told Lhaten to sell it. We discovered that 
pack-saddles were a drug on the market, but our spare equip- 
ment being of precious wood, we finally disposed of it as fire- 
wood, receiving several trangkas for it. This stretch of 
Tibetan territory along the banks of the Brahmaputra, how- 
ever, is much better off for fuel than most parts of the country, 
although, of course, lacking in trees. We saw along the way- 
side a quantity of thorn growing, and we found that this was 
largely used for fuel in place of the more general yak- 
dung, particularly as yaks are rare in this part of Tibet, 
and the dung of mules, horses, and donkeys is much less 
serviceable. 

After an hour’s rest, we again took to the road. Once more 
we had to round a spur of hills which ran down to the river’s 
edge, and again found on the other side a broad, flat basin. 
During the afternoon we were much troubled by the heat. 
The Brahmaputra River valley is the warmest part of Tibet. 
The nights continued to be bitterly cold, but at midday the 
direct rays of the sun madeit even hotter thaninIndia. It was 
impossible to touch any exposed object with the naked hand, so 


190 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


scorching did it become. Of course, it was only those spots 
directly exposed to the sun where this great heat prevailed. 
In sheltered and shady places the cold was almost as great as 
at night-time. This great difference in the temperature at the 
same time and place, according to whether one was in or out 
ft the direct sunshine, was one of the most extraordinary 
things experienced in Tibet. 
fo On many occasions the temperature would be 30° below 
zero at night-time, and I10° to 120° above at midday. 

This effect of heat felt only under the direct rays of the sun 
is due to the fact that, owing to the rarefied atmosphere, the 
heat is not radiated, and in the hottest part of the day our tea 
would frequently freeze to a solid block of ice inside a dwelling. 

It was a curious feeling to stand with one foot in the shade 
and the other in the sun: one foot in danger of being frost- 
bitten and the other of being scorched. 

Our way seemed to continue endlessly ; I began to feel worse 
and worse, and it seemed impossible for me to goon. I thought 
of stopping at a big farmhouse we came upon near a large and 
curious backwater of the Brahmaputra, which extended far 
into the plain; but being told by a passing peasant that the 
regular resting-stage of Trangka was only a little distance off, 
we decided to push on. Keeping on for another two hours 
without seeing anything of the village, we asked another 
traveller where Trangka lay, and received the same answer as 
had been given two hours previously. We were in both 
instances led to suppose it was only a stone’s-throw away, but 
it took still another hour’s tramp to bring us in sight of our goal, 
and even then Trangka was still five miles away. 

The Tibetans are, indeed, extraordinarily inexact in their 
methods of measuring. For calculating distances, I heard 
mention of only three terms. One of these was osatsa, literally 
the distance which the voice carries, but which in practice 
seemed to vary from one hundred to five hundred yards. The 
second was ¢tsapo, or tsasa, or a half-march, ranging from five to 
ten miles, and finally a shasa, a full march, which meant any- 
thing from ten to twenty miles. 

_These were the only methods of computation used or under- 
stood by the peasantry. The religious literature employs 
a method of computation evolved by the ancient Indian 


-SHIGATSE ONWARD I9I 


Buddhists*; and occasionally more sophisticated officials 
will calculate distances in Chinese Ji, itself a variable 
quantity, or in English miles. They have learned of the 
mileage system from the milestones which are placed along 
the Gyangtsé-Yatung road. 

As regards time they are equally vague, though they have 
a larger number of terms. Among the phrases I heard most 
frequently employed in this connection were : 


nyvma = daytime 

tsen or gongmo = night-time 

chake-tangpo = first cockcrow 

chake-nyipa = second cockcrow 

torang == just before dawn—“‘ false dawn ” 
tse shar = sunrise, lit. ‘‘ peak-shining ”’ 
shokke = early morning 

tsating = late morning 

nyin-gung = midday 

gongta = afternoon 

sa-rip == dusk 

nam-che == midnight 


Owing to the greater exactitude of the European system of 
the measurement of time, the Tibetans who have come into 
contact with life in India have learned to understand and 
even employ European reckoning of the hours. Curiously 
enough, this is quite irrespective of whether they have watches 
or not. A certain position of the sun in the sky means to 
them three p.m., and so on. [ had brought with me a cheap 
Ingersoll, the only timepiece I had dared to have with the 
party (one or two Lhasa merchants have acquired such watches), 
but on entering Tibet I had given it to “ Satan” to wear, as 
a watch was much more in keeping with his réle than mine. 

Even when we had at length caught sight of Trangka, it 
took a long time for us to reach it, owing to my weakness. 
Lhaten insisted upon my taking a long drink of avak, which 
he declared was good for bowel troubles. Chang, the mild 
fermented form of barley, is supposed to be a laxative, while 
arak, the distilled form, has exactly the opposite effect, and is 


* For details see my Manual of Buddhist. Philosophy, part i. 


192 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


incidentally supposed to be a sure cure for most internal 
disorders. A similar view is taken in various parts of Europe 
in regard to the efficacy of certain alcoholic beverages and 
spirits. Certainly in my case it worked temporary wonders. 
The taste of the avak was so vile I could hardly get it down, 
and once down it seemed to burn my inside to such an extent 
that I was spurred into activity, and managed to do the last 
couple of miles in record time. “‘ Satan,’’ not troubling about 
anyone else, had gone on ahead, and we found him installed 
in one of the neatest little rest-houses I had yet seen. ‘ 

Trangka is situated about a mile away from the edge of the 
river at the foot of a curiously-isolated hill which rises up in 
the middle of the broad, flat basin. On the top of the hill, 
instead of a castle, was a shrine, at which every morning and 
evening incense is burned. The ground around the village 
was so barren that even by cultivation no trees could be grown, 
and the population were forced to find their principal support 
in tourist traffic, with the result that the accommodation was 
much better than in many of the villages through which we 
had passed. Each house was only one story high, and the 
common-room opened directly on to the courtyard. But 
inside the room there were two elevated mud dais—to serve 
as bedsteads for better-class travellers. On these were spread 
thick, hard cushions stuffed with wool, which placed together 
served as, and looked like, mattresses: with a carpet thrown 
over them one got a very pleasing divan effect. These mattress- 
cushions (shuden) are very common in the richer houses in 
Tibet, but this was the first time we had met with them, as 
the rest-houses at which we stayed were off the beaten track. 

One of these divans we found occupied by a monk, who was 
on his way from Lhasa to Shigatsé. The other, of course, was 
occupied by “ Satan,’’ so that I got a better idea of what the 
divans looked like than what they felt like. 

The monk was the sole other occupant of the room. We 
found him busy chanting some religious books, but his tea- 
bowl was in front of him, and every five minutes he would 
stop and take a sip. He came to an end of his chant by and 
by, and then asked us to give him some money, for which he 
would chant a long sutra for our benefit. His request was by 
no means unusual, True Tibetans believe that one acquires 


SHIGATSE ONWARD 193 


great merit by the chanting of sacred books, and since the 
average man is too ignorant and too lazy to chant himself, he 
frequently hires a priest to perform this duty for him. This is 
one of the principal ways in which a priest makes his living. 

The monks earn their livelihood in various ways, some of 
which are not at all compatible with their religious status, for 
they sometimes break out in bands and waylay and rob 
travellers. It happens also, occasionally, that a gang of the 
more turbulent monks will attack and plunder merchants and 
pillage villages. The money and produce received by the 
monastery from various sources is not divisible amongst the 
inmates, except in one or two instances, such, for example, as 
the bu-la, or fees received for performing funeral rites, and the 
alms which are given at harvest-time to the ‘‘ holy’ men. 
Other revenue the individual monks receive are presents given 
by the rich in place of the expensive ceremonies which follow 
some time after the death of a member of the family. The 
monks have no definite income or salary, either from the 
monasteries or outside source. If their families are well-to-do, 
they may have allowances, and the cost of their education is 
borne by the family. In other cases, where the parents are 
landed proprietors, the inmate of the monastery will receive 
the produce of a field set aside, and called the lama-i-shing 
(lama’s field). Such revenue is insufficient and must be 
supplemented by the monks’ own earnings, a state of things 
which brings about much abuse of their powers. The means 
of augmenting allowances are various. If the monk be a 
fully-fledged ge-long, he will be in request at marriages and 
other ceremonies ; he will be called on in cases of sickness to 
recite prayers, and be in attendance at births and on other 
occasions to cast horoscopes. For these services he receives 
payment in kind or money. 

Many monks are money-lenders and carry on their usurious 
dealings both in and outside the monastery, and charge high 
rates of interest. 

After harvest, it is the custom of the monks to tour the 
districts about a monastery in small bands, chanting outside 
each house. The husbandmen present the singers with grain, 
and this is divided up in the monastery according to the degree 
or grade of the inmates. 

N 


194 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Another means of obtaining additional goods is practised 
by lamas who waylay travellers in the village rest-houses and 
streets, demanding alms in return for their benediction, and 
some members of the fraternity hire themselves out to work 
in the fields for payment. 

The monasteries own considerable property, their wealth 
being derived mainly from lands in the vicinity of the establish- 
ment. These lands are farmed by hereditary tenants, who 
pay no rent but deliver one-third of all produce to the land- 
lord—in this case the monastic establishment. The delivery 
of this tribute is effected in various ways—sometimes direct by 
the husbandry, though more often through appointed collectors, 
who, while engaged in gathering the produce, drive a thriving 
business, the profits of which they share with the overlords. 
These men travel round the villages and farms receiving the 
dues in wool, butter, and other goods, and sometimes coin. 
The collector then takes the opportunity to sell brick-tea from 
China and suchlike articles, the poor tenants being compelled 
to purchase something. It happens also that where the 
ecclesiastics are the sole proprietors of the lands round about 
their establishments, taking in the territory of practically a 
whole Government area, the Dzong-pén, or lay Governor of 
the provincial dzong, or castle, is appointed as _ tax- 
gatherer. As he too, in such cases, becomes a merchant, 
it can be readily understood that the tenantry suffer 
considerably, for the castellan has means at his disposal to 
enforce trade. 

The revenues obtained by the monasteries are to be applied 
in three chief ways: for the reparation of the fabric of the 
building and the acquirement of articles utilized in the temple ; 
for the provision of certain provender, including beer, for the 
monks at festivals ; and to procure supplies of butter for the 
lamps kept burning before the holy images. But before 
account is rendered the higher officials secure choice pickings 
for themselves. 

While the monks are exempt from all forms of taxation 
and impositions, the helpless husbandry have not finished 
with the overlords by the mere rendering of the tribute. 
On them is the onus of providing transport animals— 
cattle and ponies—to carry the borax, wool, and other 


SHIGATSE ONWARD 195 


goods in which the monastic authorities traffic, post animals, 
and so on. 

_ Monks are apt to get into a bad temper when such a request 
as that advanced by the individual who shared the common- 
room with us is refused, so we gave him a couple of trangkas 
to calm him, and thereupon he bellowed another twenty 
minutes for our special benefit. 

He was not the only one to pester us. The whole village 
seemed to teem with mendicant minstrels. They swarmed 
out into the courtyard and went through an amateur version of 
a devil-dance, wearing, however, only simple black masks. For 
orchestra they had only a huge drum and some brass cymbals, 
but with these made a terrific noise. Even this, however, 
was drowned by the singing of the women performers. A 
real devil-dance, of course, has only male actors, but in 
these village shows the majority of the players are women. 
Their performance seemed to last indefinitely, and we 
were forced to give them some coppers to break off and 
leave us in peace. 

Later in the evening the monk left us: he was journeying 
by night, and we had the whole common-room to ourselves. 
Lhaten suggested that I occupy the vacant dais, but I told him 
to do so, as I did not know when some other person might 
arrive. 

I had been very glad that we were at last alone, but I was 
soon brought to understand that ‘‘Satan’’ was even more 
glad, as it gave him an opportunity of making an attempt at 
blackmail. 

He saw how keen I was on getting to Lhasa, and thought I 
would pay any price to avoid failure. Consequently he de- 
manded a thousand rupees, under threat of informing the local 
authorities who I was. My first instinct was to knock him 
down, but I realized in time that this would do no good, and so 
I was forced to make a compromise. I promised him two 
hundred rupees in the event of our getting to Lhasa, a sum less 
than I should have given him in any case had he worked satis- 
factorily. At the same time I demanded from him a letter 
repeating his outrageous offer. Naively enough he gave me 
this, whereupon I informed him that he was now in my power, 
and that if we were turned away or sent back from Lhasa as the 


196 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


result of any action of his, I could have him thrown into prison 
in India on the charge of blackmail. 

After matters had thus been satisfactorily settled, we 
composed ourselves for sleep. 

Next morning we started off at our usual time, two hours 
before sunrise. We had first to skirt the curious Trangka Hill 
and then strike out across the plain. This proved more uneven 
and rolling than usual and also very sandy, so sandy that the 
usual tracks which served as a guide to our road had been 
obliterated, and we were in fear that we would once rhore lose 
the way. I insisted, therefore, on our keeping near the river- 
bank, as I felt that in this way we should not go so very far 
astray. This hindered progress a good deal, as the river winds 
in and out over the wide valley-bed. Could we have only seen 
our direction we might have made many short-cuts, but in the 
darkness vision was limited and a comprehensive view of the 
valley-formation was impossible. 

The sunrise was particularly beautiful—a sandy soil, over 
which the air contains many particles of sand, always makes 
for beautiful sunrises and sunsets. 

Once it was light we could go forward with greater freedom. 
In the morning my illness did not seem to affect me so badly, 
so we were able to leave mile after mile behind us. 

About eleven o’clock we came to the village of Namu, in the 
centre of which was an important-looking monastery. Several 
of the monks were walking about the streets, and some of them 
stopped to look at us as we passed through. I heard later 
that this monastery has the reputation of being particularly 
reactionary. A small group of monks came up to us, and one 
of their number began asking searching questions, for our 
Sikkimese costumes, which differ on certain points of detail 
from those worn in the central parts of Tibet, had probably 
awakened his suspicions. 

+ After ‘“Satan’s)’ attempt’ at blackmail the preceding 
evening, I was very much afraid that he might give me away, 
in view of the threatening attitude which the monks assumed ; 
but, to do him justice, he was now firmly fixed in mind to get 
me to Lhasa. He was, moreover, a most consummate actor, 
and answered, or rather evaded, all questions most skilfully, 
so that we were allowed to pass on. It would seem, however, 





A RELIGIOUS DANCE BY LAMAS IN A TIBETAN MONASTERY 





TIBETAN LAMA DANCERS IN MASKS 





SHIGATSE ONWARD 197 


that our inquisitive friend was not completely satisfied, for 
“‘ Diogenes,’”’ who was lagging a little behind, was also stopped 
and asked not only about himself, but about us. His simple 
mind had got the necessity of secrecy firmly fixed in it, and 
his naive answers helped even better than all of ‘‘ Satan’s ”’ 
volubility. ; 

Our inquisitor was obviously a person of some standing in 
the temple, and was probably the cho-trimpa, or proctor, 
who sees that the monks conform their actions to the 
canon Idw. — 

. Every large monastery has a great number of office-holders. 
These officers, their titles, duties, and privileges, differ consider- 
ably among the various orders, and many monasteries, even 
inside one order, depart a good deal from general custom. 
But among the Gelugpa, reformed or “ yellow-hat,” monas- 
teries, which now constitute the established Church of Tibet, ~ 
the usual monastic offices are more or less as follows : 

At the head of the monastery is, of course, the abbot. He 
is either a reincarnation of divinity (trii-kw), and therefore 
selected as an infant, or is the specially-appointed head 
(kenpo) whose selection generally lies in the hands of the 
authorities in Shigatsé or Lhasa. 

The organization of the temporal side of the monastery is 
in the hands of a treasurer, or chandzo, and a high steward, or 
chinyer. The welfare of the monks is looked after by a 
lob-pén, or professor, who regulates the studies and may himself 
teach the senior students, and the above-mentioned cho-trimpa, 
who maintains order and sees that the monastic regulations 
are obeyed. There are frequently two such officials aided by 
several subordinate orderlies. 

The main temple building and the great ceremonies conducted 
therein form the jurisdiction of the wmdze, the chief celebrant 
or dean, the ku-nyer, or sacristan, and the tea-dispensers, or 
cha-ma, etc. | 

These offices are usually held for a limited period, and the 
holders are elected by and from the community of monks. 

In addition there are a number of monks who are given 
special duties, such as the medical monks, the exorcists, the 
monastic painters, accountants and tax-collectors, chamberlains 
and cooks, etc. 


‘3 


198 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


I had intended to halt in this village for our midday meal 
and rest, but we were sufficiently frightened by the presence 
of the monks to make us go on for another hour before stopping. 
Here we found an outlying farmhouse, where we took our 
customary rest without interruption. 


CHAPTER XVI 
: ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA 


In the afternoon our road lay, for the most part, right along 
the river. The range of mountains which had run parallel 
to the Brahmaputra about four miles from the river-bed, 
having a broad plain in between, now began to close down on 
either side ; on several occasions we could look straight down 
into the clear depths of the principal stream, where could be 
seen an incredible number of fish, some of them of gigantic 
size, while on its banks were countless ducks and cranes. 
Their number is due to the Tibetan scruple against fishing 
and shooting. This scruple is based on religious dislike of 
destroying life. Inconsistently, there is no prohibition of the 
killing of domestic animals, and the Tibetans are probably 
the greatest meat-eaters in the world. 

Once or twice we caught sight of a boat making its way down 
the river from Shigatsé. 

The Tibetans are very primitive in the construction and 
navigation of their boats. Their craft are made of leather, 
Square in shape, and are as clumsy as the ancient British 
coracle. On the lakes these boats are unknown. In Tibet, 
several temples and villages are to be found on islands set in 
the lakes, and, owing to the lack of boats, communication can 
only be had with the shore for a short time during the winter, 
when the water freezes and the people are able to walk to and 
fro on the ice. 

Late in the afternoon we came across another long stretch of 
sand. The wind at this time was blowing so strongly that we 
had great difficulty in walking, but I noticed that the sand 
was singularly little disturbed. This impressed upon me the 


199 


200 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


fact, of which I had been but half-conscious before, that for 
the most part the wind sweeps along two or three feet above 
the ground, so that a gale may be blowing, and yet, if one be 
* lying down, it is scarcely noticeable. 

The sand also led me to another very curious observation. 
At one place quite a respectably-sized stream ran down from 
a side-valley as if to join the Brahmaputra, but about three- 
quarters of a mile away from the main stream it gradually 
lost strength, and about half a mile from its would-be con- 
fluence it disappeared altogether as if swallowed «up by 
the sand! It was probably absorbed into the ground, 
and ran as an underground current into the great river; 
but certainly the sight of the disappearing waters was most 
disconcerting. 

Ploughing through the sand was very weary work. We 
had now gone for several miles without seeing any sign of 
habitation, and I was so exhausted that I seriously thought 
of camping out here in the open; but the others insisted on 
pushing forward, and finally we came to the bare, bleak village 
of Langtru. 

Just at this point the Brahmaputra, which hitherto had 
been split up into a number of small streams winding over a 
large bed, converged into a single narrow stream which ran 
with exceptional force and rapidity. With their backward 
navigation the Tibetans are not capable of dealing with such 
conditions, so that the river-traffic which goes on along the 
Brahmaputra for many hundreds of miles stops here. Sixty 
miles farther down-stream, so I was told, it is resumed again ; 
but, owing to the current, boat communication between 
Shigatsé and Lhasa is impossible. The village of Langtru is 
the last stop of the boats on the upper section of the river, 
and we could see here a number of boats laid up by the side 
of the river. These leather boats become waterlogged if they 
are allowed to stay too long in the water, so the boatmen are 
always careful to haul them up on to the bank as soon as 
they come to a resting-stage. Being made of very thin 
leather, they are surprisingly light, and I noticed one or two 
men who balanced their clumsy craft on their heads and 
carried them up to the courtyard of the rest-house in which 
they were staying. 


ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA 201 


Considering Langtru’s importance as the base for navigation, 
I was surprised at its desolate appearance. The soil around 
here was too sandy for brick-making, so that the houses 
were constructed entirely of stone—boulders, rough and 
unhewn, and stuck together indiscriminately with rude 
mud mortar. : 

Before long we were installed in a rest-house of the usual 
kind, save that the walls were very damp, which made it more 
freezingly cold than ever as night came on. Provisions, it 
seems, were very difficult to get here. Chang, the barley beer, 
could not be supplied (this was the only village in Tibet where 
I ever found a scarcity of chang), and we could only with diffi- 
culty get fuel enough to boil our tea, so that as soon as we had 
eaten we crept away to the comparative warmth of our blankets. 

The Tibetans seem to regard fire as useful only for cooking— 
strangely enough, considering that so much food is eaten raw ! 
For purposes of warmth it is very sparingly used. Fuel is too 
scarce, and the Tibetan fuel, particularly, burns too fast to 
permit of its use for general heating. Consequently the 
Tibetan, when he feels the cold, takes refuge in more 
clothes, and at night or in winter-time carries on his back 
a whole wardrobe. 

The next morning we were later than usual in starting, and 
it was nearly dawn before we got away, I was very much 
worried by the slowness of our progress, but could not see what 
could be done to improve matters until we got extra transport 
animals, and unless we had with us some guide who knew the 
road. We seemed to lose a lot of time straying about on our 
early-morning journeys in the dark. 

The whole of this morning’s march lay along the cliffs which 
enclosed the Brahmaputra on either side. In some cases we 
had less than six inches of roadway, carved from the rocky walls, 
and when we came to a particularly difficult bit, we had to 
unload our animals and carry their bundles across ourselves lest 
the poor beasts be pushed off the track and fall into the seething 
torrent hundreds of feet below. Everywhere was bleak, bare 
rock: in many cases the rock had been carved with sacred 
inscriptions, and with bas-relief sculptures of various Buddhas 
and Bodhisattvas ; some of these were crude, but many were 
beautifully done. 


202 --TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


It is a very unusual thing to see bare rock in Tibet. The 
alternation of extreme heat and cold during the seasons and 
day and night has broken up the surface of the rocky portions 
of the country so as to expose to sight only fine earth or sand. 
Even the mountains have generally a well-rounded look, but 
here the canyon or gorge in which we found ourselves must be 
of recent geological formation, for the great boulders showed 
no sign of weathering. 

The valley of the great river of Tibet, the Brahmaputra, or 
Tsangpo, the name it is known by in that country, presents 
many interesting aspects to the explorer. The river flows for 
nearly 1,300 miles from west to east, through the centre of 
Southern Tibet, for the most part in a broad valley. Into this 
valley drain the smaller rivers, pouring their waters into the 
main river, which at flood season becomes a broad single stream, 
turbulent in places, but at ordinary times is made up of a 
number of narrow waterways running along distinct channels 
worn out in the main bed. ” | 

The depression, or valley, of the Brahmaputra, for several 
miles beyond Takra, has geological surprises for the observer. 
From the confluence of the River Rong down to a point where 
the main waterway branches off to Lhasa, the formation of the 
valley is new and unexpected. It is a geological paradox 
which I can hardly attempt to explain fully here. In general, 
the valley of the Brahmaputra is an old formation with down- 
like hills sloping gently to the wide river-bed, the rocks covered 
with soil and a quantity of vegetation and herbage. But for 
some strange reason, where the Rong joins the main stream 
there commences a totally new-type formation, the hills are 
rugged, with steep valleys and bare, unweathered rocks. 
This continues for about fifty miles, when again the old 
type of valley reappears. One can only surmise that at 
some comparatively recent date the river carved itself 
out a new, narrower course, in the middle of the older, 
broader bed. Navigation is impossible along this reach 
for the crude hide boats of the Tibetans, and so there are 
villages at each end which engage chiefly in the transporta- 
tion of goods. 

In addition to being narrow, the track was also very uneven, 
and we had to clamber up and down the face of the cliff. Later 


ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA 203 


in the afternoon the road straightened and broadened out again, 
and we were able to increase our pace. 

Owing to my illness, I had got into the habit of falling behind 
the others, and this practice very nearly led me into serious 
difficulties. A peasant came walking from the opposite direc- 
tion and passed me without comment, but on looking back I 
saw that he had met with three horsemen one of whom was 
obviously an official, who stopped the man and began to ask 
questions. 

This is no unusual thing in Tibet. The Tibetan official loves 
to vaunt his authority, and when riding along the road, if in no 
hurry, frequently stops pedestrians and demands where they 
are going and why. In many cases the poor peasants, fearing 
persecution, give the official a monetary present. 

I was not much worried as to the poor peasant’s fate, but it 
occurred to me that the horsemen who were following us would 
shortly overtake me and put me through a similar catechism. 
My party was now nearly half a mile ahead, and so I determined 
to catch up with them, so as to let any questioning be answered 
by” satan,” 

I had been feeling utterly fatigued and hardly able to crawl, 
but with this fear in my heart, it was remarkable how soon I 
recovered and managed, in spite of my thirty-five-pound load, 
to “ hit up ” a pace that would have done credit to a Marathon 
athlete. My bundle bobbed around on my back and one or 
two things fell out, our supply of salt among them, but this 
I did not mind, and I managed to flop along so fast that I 
caught up with my party shortly before the riders overtook 
me. They must have been surprised at the display of speed 
which I had given them, and did indeed pull up to ask a 
question, but I was obviously so out of breath that I could 
not speak, and “‘Satan’’ answered for me. After a short 
inquiry, the official party rode on and we were left in peace 
again. 

An hour later we arrived at a thriving little village 
called Kulunga, where we halted for our midday meal 
and rest. 

In great contrast to Langtru, I found this little village 
extremely lively, prosperous, and progressive. The nemo of 
our rest-house was very much interested to learn that we were 


ut 


\ 


‘to members of “‘ the upper classes, 


204 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Sikkimese, and wanted to know whether, living so near to 
India, we had adopted any Indian customs. I was anxious 
to find out what the good lady considered typically Indian, 
and was surprised to find her well informed for she had never 
been outside her native village and had, of course, never seen 
an Indian in her life. She informed us that Indians were 
distinguished by the fact that they ate no beef (or rather, 
as she put it, they ate no yak); that they insisted on 
eating in privacy, turning their backs on the rest of the 
world at meal-times; and, finally, that they observed 
caste rules. 

‘Satan ’’ assured our friend that; though the Sikkimese 
were unfortunate enough to live near the barbarians, we had 
not allowed our good Tibetan blood to be corrupted by heathen 
practices. | 

In point of fact, the Tibetans are not nearly so democratic 
as their scorn of the Indian caste system might lead one to 
suppose. 

Technically speaking, there is, of course, no “ caste”’ in 
Tibet, but there is a sharp distinction preserved between 
patrician and plebeian families. Tibet has some thirty or 
forty “‘ great ’’ families, which in other countries would form 
the nobility. Below these there are some hundred and fifty 
or two hundred families which constitute a squirearchy, or 
upper middle-class. Below these there is the broad mass of 
the population, consisting of peasant farmers and petty 
merchants. Lowest of all in the social scale come the outcasts, 
who are taboo because of their occupation. Among such 
“impossible ’’ trades are those of the butcher, the tanner, 
and even the maker of bows and arrows. 

Entrance into the official world is in nearly all cases reserved 
” and there is very great 
prejudice against intermarriage of the classes. The priesthood 
is open to all, except, in some parts, to members of outcast 
families, and a bright young priest has a fair chance of advance- 
ment, though there is a strong tendency for priests drawn 
from the aristocratic families to occupy the higher ecclesias- 
tical positions. 

Generally speaking, the cleavage of the classes is even greater 
in Tibet than anywhere in Europe, and this in spite of Tibet’s 


‘ 


ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA 205 


contact with China, in some ways the most democratic of 
countries. 

While I was resting after our lunch, Lhaten went “ scroung- 
ing’ around the village in order to purchase more salt and 
more barley. In this way he met a small party of men belong- 
ing to this village who were going to the town of Yasé, several 
miles away, on the road to Lhasa, in order to buy supplies for 
their village. They were going up light and coming back 
heavy, so that Lhaten arranged with them for us to join their 
party ahd to be allowed to ride two of their ponies. In this 
way we not only got fresh and very useful guides, which would 
enable us to continue our early-morning journeys without 
fear of losing the way, but also for the next two or three days 
Lhaten and I would be able to ride as well as “‘ Satan.’’ Lhaten 
quickly came back to tell me of the new arrangement. I was 
overjoyed, for, owing to the weakening effects of the dysentery, 
I was beginning to fear that I should be physically unable to 
reach the Forbidden City, even if no other obstacles lay in our 
way. I insisted, however, on Lhaten and “ Satan”’ riding 
the two fresh ponies, while I mounted our own worn-out nag, 
as I thought he would not be able to keep up with the others, 
and thus give me a good excuse for not being always in the 
close company of our new companions. 

In much more joyful spirits, therefore, we started on a new 

phase of the journey. It had been such a long time since I 
had been in the saddle that I began, before long, to feel stiff 
and sore, but even this was far preferable to the agony of 
having to walk with a heavy load in my then critical physical 
condition. 
_ Shortly after leaving the village, we left the banks of the 
Brahmaputra and began to ascend a broad side-valley in the 
centre of which ran a tributary, the famous Rong River. 
Beyond this point it was impossible to follow along the banks 
of the main stream. The flanking mountains continued to 
narrow down on either side, and the Brahmaputra for the 
next sixty miles became a series of rapids running through a 
narrow gorge with precipitous cliffs, sometimes more than 
1,000 feet high. 

Consequently, though Lhasa lies on the north side of the 
Brahmaputra, we had now to make a long detour to the 


206 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


south-east, following the Rong River up to its source, the 
Yamdro Lake. We could then strike to the north again and, 
crossing over a mountain range, return to the Brahmaputra 
near where the Kyi River, on which Lhasa stands, runs into 
it from the north. By following up this second tributary we 
would arrive at last at the Sacred City. 

On the way up the Rong Valley that afternoon we passed 
in front of a small and miserable-looking monastery. Alongside 
the roadway were a number of prayer-walls. In these were 
placed a large number of prayer-wheels. Following the 
example of my companions, I dismounted from my pony as 
we passed by the walls and turned each wheel, but I noticed 
one or two other passers-by were not as punctiliously religious 
as ourselves, though they were scrupulously careful to keep 
on the right side. 

These particular prayer-walls were of interest to me, because 
they contained inscriptions—invocations which were not in 
Sanskrit, as is usual (even ‘Om Mani Padme hung”’ is San- 
skrit), but in Tibetan, and were, moreover, written phonetically 
and not according to the classical spelling. 

Unlike Chinese, to which Tibetan is very distantly related, 
the language of Tibet has a regular alphabet consisting of thirty 
letters and four vowel signs. Spelling was standardized in the 
eighth century, and it is probable that at that time words were 
pronounced as they are spelled. Phonetic decay, however, has 
rendered a great many letters silent, and in very many cases 
the majority of the letters composing a word are not pronounced. 
Most frequently it is the first and last letters which are vic- 
timized. Thus, for example, dbugs is pronounced “ u,”’ mkas-po 
is “‘ kepo,”’ dngul is “ ngii,”’ etc. More confusing still are the 
rules whereby byin-po is promounced “ chim-pa,” krag is “ tra,” 
and bris-pa is “‘ tri-pa.” To the uninitiated, therefore, the 
spelling of a word is no indication of how it is pronounced, and 
even educated Tibetans make many mistakes in orthography. 
The grossly uneducated will spell things phonetically, that is, 
when they can write at all, which is rare. 

Very late in the afternoon we came in sight of our nae 
place for the night, the village of Ringpo, over which towered 
a dzong, or castle, of the usual Tibetan type, though placed in a 
very unusual position. 


ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA 207 


The formation of the land and the position of the castle, 
monastery, and village of Ringpo, were so extraordinary that 
I memorized the general outlines with a view to making a 
rough sketch at the first opportunity. This I did. It is 
very rough, but may give some idea of the peculiarities which 
surprised me, 

The Rong (river) runs in a steep, narrow gorge, which seems 
~ to have been worn away by the waters out of the bed of the 
older glacial valley, the natural level of the land. At this 
place the river gorge has divided into two streams, leaving an 
island in the middle. The summit of this island is level with 
the surrounding glacier vailey. On this isolated crag the castle 
is perched, while at the foot of the gorge under the castle nestles 
the main village of Ringpo. The monastery is built half-way 


lsolated Houses 
42 AA 






Dzong” 


tselated Houses 
424aas 





Glacier Valley Glacier valley 
- ss a 


Monastery 


ipal Village 
The RONG S a Principa 
ps River bed | “s of RINGPO 





up in the steep outer flank of the slope above the village. On 
the glacier plain on either side of these gorges one finds isolated 
houses. 

This queer formation of a gorge cutting through an 

earlier broad glacier valley appears elsewhere, certain 
reaches of the Brahmaputra suggesting a similar effect, 
but nowhere did I see it so accentuated as at this particular 
spot. 
As a rule, in Tibet one finds the dzong, or castle, commanding 
the plain from the top of some abrupt hill or towering crag. 
From this eminence the watchers survey the surrounding 
country. In other days these castles were practicably 
impregnable, but where bows and arrows were up against an 
insuperable barrier, the modern gun finds but a temporary 
obstacle. | 

The monasteries, which are more numerous than the castles, 
have also their regular position, though the builders are not so 


208 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


adamant in this respect as the dzong constructors. One finds 
the monasteries everywhere ; in every fertile valley a number 
exist. Where river joins river or lake, there, be sure, a monas- 
tery stands on a commanding site ; at the head of each valley, 
at lakeside porterages, and important places on the main trade- 
routes the monks have built themselves in. Sometimes the 
buildings are massive structures, enclosed by a wall inside 
which, besides the main erections, are many smaller structures, 
and often they are castellated and fitted to stand a siege. The 
lesser gompas, however, are more often just square?houses, 
limewashed, and striped -and bordered with colours obtained 
from the hillside clays. 

I always had a great fear of staying too near a dzong with its 
resident corps of inquisitive officials, one of whose principal 
duties is to keep an eye on all travellers and newcomers to the 
district, and had we been alone, I should have insisted on 
staying at the little village about a mile this side of the dzong. 
But our travelling companions, who obviously possessed 
clearer consciences than we, insisted upon staying at a rest- 
house right under the dzong, and I dared not raise any 
objection. 

Once more we found the rest-house common-room over- 
crowded, so that all of us had to sleep in a corner of the rest-house 
itself. Our companions—three young men they were—who had 
had not yet got beyond the curiosity of youth, showed a disposi- 
tion to be talkative and tried to engage even me in conversa- 
tion. But I knew the limits of my conversational abilities in 
Tibetan, and after answering a few questions, I put an end to 
further inquiries by rolling myself up in my blanket and going 
to sleep. 

For the last several nights my sleep had been interrupted by 
dreams of food. More particularly did I crave for some form 
of sweet. Often when I went to sleep would I dream of some 
pudding or pastry, or even plain sugar. I dreamed it lay 
just beyond my reach, and in my sleep would physically 
strain to reach it, an action which generally caused me to 
wake up. 

In general, I am not particularly fond of sweets, and 
never would have supposed that I would miss them, but the 
absolute absence of any form of sugar or sugar substitute 


ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA 209 


showed me how integral a part of our diet such foods have 
become. 

Tibet is probably one of the few places in the world where , 
sweets are unknown. India, even Bhutan and Sikkim, China 
and Japan, have all sweetmeats of some description, and even 
where sugar as such is unknown, the sweet potato, or some fruit 
such as the mango, offers an excellent substitute. But a 
Tibetan knows nothing of such things, and when he first tastes 
them dislikes them. This is all the more strange because sugar 
is heating and would aid in counteracting the cold, but for this 
purpose the Tibetan prefers to use butter and fat. 

The lack of sweets, however, probably helps the people to 
preserve their teeth. Contrary to usual supposition, I found a 
large number of peasants with white, well-preserved teeth, and 
yet the Tibetan is never known to brush his teeth in any way or 
at any time. 

In spite of my experience of Tibetan early rising, I was 
certainly astonished when prodded awake at one-thirty in the 
morning and told to begin the march, but our companions were 
in a hurry to get on and intended to make a long march 
that day. Usually at that time of the morning there is | 
very little wind, but on this occasion a regular gale was 
blowing, and I noticed then and later that in the vongs, 
or valleys, of Tibet the wind is much stronger because more 
concentrated. 

It was pitch-dark, and I could see no trace of the road, but 
our guides continued steadily on without once hesitating. 
It is extraordinary how well Tibetans can see in the dark, 
though a peculiar disease of the eyes, through which one is 
totally blind at dusk, is not unknown. 

Our road was curiously uneven. Sometimes it ran along 
the older upper valley, and sometimes along the lower newer 
valley, and a good deal of time was lost in continually ascending 
and descending the forty or fifty feet of cliff which separated 
the two. 

We passed through the important town of Rachampa in the 
dark, and continued steadily on our way until at dawn we reached 
a point where the Rong River divides in two. Following a 
tributary to the right was a road which led to Gyangtsé, only 
two days’ march away. Three months previously I had been 

Oo 


210 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


living in comparative comfort in that city, and I could not 
but reflect upon the great contrast that occasion presented to 
my present situation. If it had not been for my parole, I 
should have been able to start my secret journey from 
Gyangtsé and would have avoided all our terrible sufferings 
in the passes. I must confess that I felt a strong temptation 
to abandon the Lhasa journey and to follow the road to 
Gyangtsé, where I should be able to secure medical assistance 
and once more be in a position to command proper food and 
clothing ; but I remembered that we were now less than a 
week from Lhasa, and this determined me to muster all of my 
energies for the final stages of the adventure, upon the success 
of which so much depended, and so I followed the others along 
the road to the left. 

The wind continued to beat against us, and at times we had 
great difficulty in making progress. I was surprised to find 
in this narrow, gale-swept valley a number of thriving villages. 
The Rong Valley is, in fact, very famous historically. Its 
very bleakness seems to produce a sturdy set of men, and many 
of the soldiers in the new Tibetan Army are recruited from 
this district. ! 

Shortly before noon we halted at the small village of Trumsa, 
where we had our usual rest and lunch—breakfast—our first 
meal, although we had been travelling about ten hours. 
In the courtyard of the rest-house I noticed a number of 
chickens and my mouth watered at the sight of them, 
as my stomach revolted at the eternal putrid yak and 
sheep flesh. 

‘Chicken is supposed to be an unspeakably filthy food in 


\ Tibet, and custom forbids its use. Eggs, for some reason, are 


also placed on the taboo list, and many strict lamas who 
consume huge quantities of mutton refuse to eat eggs on the 
ground that the practice deprives future chickens of life. 

In conformity with Tibetan prejudice, I had hitherto kept 
myself both from chickens and eggs, but while in this village 
it occurred to me that, as there were chickens here, they were 
scarcely kept for ornament, but that in spite of all prejudice 
and pretence they were occasionally eaten when no one was 
around, for as the Indian proverb has it, “‘ Where there is no 
eye there is no caste.”’ 


ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA 211 


In my desperate desire for a change in food, I decided that 
if the local Tibetans were so wicked as to eat chickens there 
was no reason why we should not also do so, and through 
Lhaten I arranged for the purchase of two fowls. I found 
that we could get them for a trangka (3d.) apiece, but that the 
nepo (landlord) insisted that we catch them ourselves, as he 
would have nothing to do with such indiscretions. 

Lhaten, the syce, and “ Diogenes,’”’ now began a merry 
chase, but the fowls had never had their wings clipped and 
showed asremarkable ability to fly when they found themselves 
near capture. The chase continued fully half an hour, to our 
enormous amusement; I noticed that the reluctant nepo 
laughed the loudest of all, but in the end our game was 
“bagged ”’ and we moved off once more. For a comparison of 
prices it may be added that the fodder for our animals at this 
stage cost two trangkas, and the handful of yak-dung for 
boiling our tea cost one trangka. 

In the afternoon, as I expected, the gale grew worse, and 
as the wind was sweeping down from some glaciers in the upper 
valley, it was bitterly cold, the coldest day, in fact, that I had 
experienced in Tibet. This brought it very clearly into my 
mind that the Brahmaputra Valley is the warmest part of 
Tibet, and the farther we got away from it the colder the 
atmosphere became. | 

In these circumstances it is easy to understand the surprise 
which I felt when, about four o’clock in the afternoon, on 
passing a village situated in the lower valley, near the water’s 
edge, I saw a number of persons lying stark naked near the 
roadside. I thought they must be raving lunatics, or else 
corpses, to be thus exposed to the cold. But as we came nearer 
I discovered that they were ordinary Tibetan peasants lying 
in shallow pools of steaming water. The village in question, 
I learned, is famous for its natural hot springs. Great curative 
powers are ascribed to the waters, and the Tibetans sometimes 
overcome their disinclination to wash and will then soak them- 
selves in the steaming water for hours. 

The crudity of the arrangements is curious. Instead of 
having a room or even a courtyard built around the springs, 
they are left here completely exposed, and it seems incredible 
that the people are not taken by pneumonia on getting out of 


212 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the hot water and exposing themselves unguarded to the 
icy-cold winds. This crudity is all the more curious because 
on one point the peasants have shown a certain amount of 
art. They have scooped out the various shallow pools into 
which the hot water from the spring runs, and by diverting 
a small stream of cold water they form pools of varying tempera- 
ture, from some just tepid to others in which the water nearly 
boils. The waters are generally impregnated with various 
salts, in particular chlorides and sulphates, or potash and 
magnesium ; some contain iron, others are simply plain water 
without any noticeable impregnation. 

But, in addition to the great importance attached to the 
healing properties of the hot springs, the Tibetan has an 
ulterior motive for bathing in the sulphurous waters. He is 
a verminous creature, and his Buddhistic beliefs preclude the 
hunting and slaughter of the insects which infest his body and 
clothing. The springs, then, provide him with a simple means 
of ridding himself of vermin without trespassing too far on his 
religious scruples. 

We had not remained immune. The native rest-houses are 
overrun with these pests, and I had already found that a 
number had attached themselves to me. At first the sense of 
their presence was extraordinarily uncomfortable, but by this 
time I had become so accustomed to them as to forget their 
existence. Nevertheless, I should have been glad to get rid of 
the present host by means of a bath in the hot sulphur water, 
but I dared not attempt to do so, lest some of my disguise be 
washed away at the same time. 

Such springs are very common in Tibet. Rarer in the central 
province, they occur chiefly in the regions at the higher altitudes 
in Tibet, in the salt lakes area, and more concentrated in the 
Yeru Tsangpo district. These springs are sometimes geysers 
gushing up high in the air. Others bubble up into natural 
pools and basins in the rocks and in hard ground. On the 
higher plateau, of about 16,000 feet above sea-level, the cold 
descends to a mark 30° below zero, sometimes to 40°, and the 
ground is frozen for eight months of the year. Here the waters 

“of the gushing fountains sometimes freeze in the air and 
icicles like high stalagmites are formed. The temperatures 
of the springs vary, and it is sometimes easily possible 


ALONG THE BRAHMAPUTRA 213 


to cook food in the water. A reading has been taken 


showing 183° at a place where the extreme elevation of ° se 


the boiling-point of water stands at 183°75° Fahrenheit. 
The range, however, is very wide, but I often saw Tibetans 
lying naked in the warm pools in places where, even when 
wrapped up in several garments one over the other, the cold 
winds cut through one with incredible sharpness and the 
penalty of carelessness was frostbite. 

One thing surprised me. Considering the large number of 
hot spritgs, it was interesting to note that Tibet is lacking in 
volcanic mountains, and in fact contains no volcano past or 
present of any importance. 

After leaving the hot-spring village, we found the valley had 
a quite different formation. In place of the broad upper and 
narrow lower valleys, the hills closed down on either side, and’ 
of the valley there was left only a narrow gorge, eaten out by 
the river, with high perpendicular walls, rising two or three 
hundred feet above our heads. We had, therefore, to keep to 
a narrow ledge within this gorge only a foot or two from the 
edge of the river, the waters of which were here covered with a 
thick layer of ice, over which, at some places where the stream 
widened out, we had to cross. | 

It was long and very wearying work, and it was not until 
after sunset that we came to a place where the gorge opened 
out a little and here found the village of Rampa, where we 
were to rest for the night. We had been eighteen hours on 
the road. 

The syce, in accordance with his orders, had plucked and 
cleaned the chickens while on the march, so that, once arrived 
in our rest-house, we were able to stick them in a pot and boil 
them without attracting too much attention. What a blessed 
relief it was to have good cooked food again after ages of dieting 
on raw putrid flesh! And yet how strange it was to feel that 
we had to eat it secretly ! 

That evening I had a further proof of Lhaten’s loyalty. His 
own dress was slightly warmer than mine, and having observed 
how bitterly I was feeling the cold, he insisted on changing 
clothes with me, as he declared that he had less need for warm 
clothes than I. I had started with three Tibetan dresses, 
and in accordance with Tibetan custom I was now wearing 


214 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


all three at the same time, one over the other, only I 
reversed the usual practice and wore my worst dress—this 
was now Lhaten’s dress—on the outside, for the more poor, 
miserable, and oppressed I looked the less danger there was 
of detection. 


CHAPTER XVII 
) GOSSIP AND CUSTOMS 


STAYING in the same rest-house we found a Lhasa lady who 
was on her way to Shigatsé to visit some relations. Among 
the poorer travellers women share and sleep in the same general 
common-room as the men, but being of a better family this lady 
was given a special, though smaller, room adjoining for her 
private use. But she obviously preferred company to solitude, 
for she came into our room after dinner and stayed for about 
an hour, joining in the common chatter. 

The good lady proved a great gossip, and told us a great deal 
about the various notabilities of Lhasa. Needless to say, most 
of her information was rather of a scandalous nature, and 
probably only about one-fourth of it was true, but at the same 
time the conversation proved very useful to me, and it told me 
which of the Lhasa officials were easygoing and modern in their 
ideas, and which were old-fashioned and rigorous. I was 
interested to note that, though she had tall tales to tell about 
many of the abbots of the Lhasa monasteries, some of whom 
were also tviiku, or incarnations, even her ribald tongue had 
nothing to utter against the private life of the Dalai Lama. 

The good dame’s accent was nearly as interesting as her 
conversation. It belonged to the pure Lhasa breed, and was 
in great contrast to the speech of everyone whom we had so far 
met, for we were still, and ever since entering Tibet had been, 
in the province of Tsang (the capital of which is Shigatsé), 
which possesses a dialect of its own. 

Dialects are very common in Tibet, nearly every village 
having verbal variations peculiar to itself. This was, of course, 
one of the chief reasons that I got through undetected, for I 
could always put accentual errors down to some outlying 


ar5 


216 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


dialect. These variations of Tibetan speech can be grouped 
under three or four main headings. 

In the first place, the two main types of the Tibetan popula- 
tion, the nomads and the town-dwellers, have each tended to 
develop linguistically along lines of their own, though for the 
most part the two types are able to understand one another. 
Among the settled communities of Central Tibet, the Tsang 
dialect, as spoken in Shigatsé, and the U dialect, as spoken in 
Lhasa, hold the field. There are probably as many people who 
speak the one as the other, though at present the greater politi- 
cal preponderance of Lhasa tends to make the U dialect the 
official language of the upper classes ‘all over the country. 

Outside of the central provinces, the principal Tibetan 
dialects, some of them very far removed one from the other, 
are Ladaki, spoken in the far west of Tibet, and Khampa, 
spoken in the great Kham province, which lies between Tibet 
proper and China. Finally, the Bhutanese, the Sikkimese, 
and the Sharpa, or the Tibetan inhabitants of Nepal, have 
each a specially-developed Tibetan dialect of their own. The 
Mongolians and the Chinese who have taken the trouble to 
learn Tibetan—and many Mongolians particularly speak 
Tibetan very well—seem in nearly all cases to have acquired 
a Kham accent. 

Even more far-reaching than the difference between the 
dialects, as regards geographical positions, is the distinction 
between the ordinary and honorific languages. 

Most Oriental languages have been influenced by this 
principle. In speaking to an equal or a superior, one used 
certain elegant and high-flown phrases, while in speaking to 
a social inferior one speaks more curtly and simply. In 
Tibetan this distinction has been carried to absurd lengths. 
There is not only an ordinary and an honorific language, but 
also a high honorific language used in addressing high digni- 
taries such as the Trashi Lama of Shigatsé, or the Dalai Lama 
of Lhasa. 

The difference between the three styles of address apply to 
nearly every word in the language. Thus, the ordinary word 
for “‘ to say ”’ or “ tell’ is lap-pa, the honorific word is sung- 
nga, and the high honorific word is ka-nang-nga ; the ordinary 


6 3 


word for ‘‘ eye” is mi, the honorific word is shap, the high 


GOSSIP AND CUSTOMS 217 


honorific word is chen (spelled spyan), and so on indefinitely. 
It is impossible to infer from the ordinary word what the 
honorific term will be, or vice versa. Consequently, when one 
wishes to learn Tibetan one must learn two, and in many cases 
three, words for every single object, because to use an honorific 
word to an inferior or an ordinary word to a superior is con- 
sidered the grossest insult. 

Our lady visitor kept us awake for some time with her 
stories, but at length withdrew to her room. She had with her 
no female attendants, but had three male servants, and I 
noticed all of them occupied the same room as their mistress. 

Not daring to join too much in the conversation, I had long 
since curled myself up in my rugs, and as soon as we were left 
alone fell fast asleep, worn out by the fatigues of the day. 

By half-past two we were up and off again. For a long 
time our way lay along the same gorge-formation as we had 
experienced all the previous day, but instead of the road lying 
at the foot of the gorge alongside the river, it now ran up on 
the side of the cliffs, about thirty or forty feet above the edge 
of the stream. The nature of the path was such that we had 
to walk. 

During the first part of the journey, when it was still pitch- 
dark, I could do without my goggles and managed to follow 
the trail without stumbling, but at the first hint of light I put 
them on, as our travelling-companions were right in front of 
me. Iwas now more than ever in inky blackness, and tripped 
against the man ahead of me and shot over into the ravine. 
The cliff had seemed perfectly perpendicular, but fortunately 
I discovered that there was just enough of an incline to break 
the full force of my fall, though I came down with a terrific 
thump upon the ice-crust of the river. The ice, unable to 
stand the strain, cracked and broke, and I was precipitated 
into the freezing water below. Thus in place of the warm 
bath which I had coveted the night before, I was forced to 
take an involuntary cold plunge. 

It is at moments such as these that one forgets matters of 
disguise, and I must admit that in my surprise at finding 
myself in the water I uttered a few strong English oaths. I 
have lived for a year at a University settlement in the East 
End supposedly in order to help the poor. The benefit which 


218 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the poor got from me was more than dubious, but I managed 
to enlarge and improve certain aspects of my vocabulary at 
this time. Fortunately my present efforts ended in a gurgle 
as my head sunk under the water, and our Tibetan companions 
above were too startled and too far above me to catch in any 
way distinctly what I said, so no great damage was done. 
The river was shallow, only some three or four feet deep, and 
Lhaten and the syce managed to fish me out before I could come 
to any serious harm. I found, on being hauled up, that my 
servants had been more frightened than I. Both Lhaten and 
‘Satan’ wasted ten good minutes in abusing me for my 
carelessness, and I found that, in spite of my superior advan- 
tages of education, their supply of appropriate words was 
much greater than my own. Before long we were able to 
continue our journey, though I was badly shaken by the fall 
and had somewhat injured my right hip. For this reason 
I was very glad to find that a little later the road widened out 
and we were once more able to ride. 

Shortly after dawn, and after passing another village, the 
valley once more entered into an entirely new type of formation. 
The gorge disappeared and the valley became broad, flat, and 
even, the river running through the middle of this valley 
without having carved out a canyon or ravine. 

I was interested to see how one valley could show three such 
entirely different geological features. At the mouth, near the 
Brahmaputra, the river seemed very old and weary ; near the 
source the river seemed young and new. Personally, I am 
sure that the secret of this lies in the fact that until compara- 
tively recent times the great Yamdro Lake extended to where 
we now were, and that it has gradually receded to its present 
boundaries, and thereby lengthened the upper part of the 
river by many miles. We occasionally met parties coming 
from the other direction. I was much amused to notice that 
quite a number of the people we met, particularly the young 
men and the boys, wore masks. This, of course, had nothing 
to do with disguise, but was merely a means of protecting 
their faces from the biting cold and cutting winds. These 
masks were made of leather, yak-leather, and had weird features 
painted on them, making their wearers look like mountain 
elves, : 7 


GOSSIP AND CUSTOMS 219 


Yasé, the destination of our friends, was not many miles 
away, but we halted about ten o’clock at a little village on the 
road, as one of the men had a married sister who was living 
there, and here we had our usual “ brunch,” or breakfast- 
lunch, and rest. 

I was interested to find that marriages took place between 
families living so far apart, for here was a woman who had 
married a group of brothers living three days away from her 
native home, but, contrary to my expectation, I found that 
in Tibet such matches were by no means uncommon. 

This is partly accounted for by the Tibetan dislike of marry- 
ing near relations. 

‘There are very distinct laws in Tibet governing consanguinity, 
though these laws are not strictly abided by. Nevertheless, 
despite *seeming laxity of morals, both before and after 
marriage, and the freedom exercised by woman and man in 
matters of sexual relationships, marriage is not, as a rule, 
contracted with kinsmen less than three or four degrees 
removed. The law of Tibet forbids alliances within seven 
degrees of consanguinity, but this is disregarded as to the letter 
of the law. In the ower ranks, marriage is not unknown 
between close relatives where neither party claims a common 
parent, and I believe cases do exist of marriages between nephew | 
and aunt, and son and stepmother, though, needless to say, such ~ 
cases are rare. I had one bit of luck in this village. Lhaten 
went through the baggage trying to find a needle wherewith to 
mend a tear in my clothes caused by my fall earlier in the day, 
and he found in the bottom of one bundlea handful of rolled oats 
which had fallen out of the tins we had used in the passes. I 
hailed the discovery with great joy, for my stomach revolted 
against the eternal barley-flour of Tibet. As we were halting 
with a private family, and not at a rest-house, there were no 
other travellers to observe what we were doing and our com- 
panions were busy gossiping with our hosts, so I managed 
to cook the oats while no one was looking. A cupful of milk 
was also procured on grounds of illness, and I sat down to my 
feast. Sugar, alas! there was none, so I had to revert to 
the barbaric custom of the Scots, and eat my oats with 
salt; but even so, after ae secret orgy I felt a nobler and 
better man. 


220 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Shortly before noon we set out on our journey again. As we 
went along I noticed a large number of springs—this time, 
however, of cold water—by the side of the road. These ran 
down to the river, which was now appreciably smaller. The 
river itself, being no longer hidden in a gorge, was exposed to the 
devastating rays of the sun, which had melted a good deal of 
the ice covering, so that we could see the water flowing in the 
middle, but so strong was the wind in the opposite direction 
that its blasts on the river made it seem as if the water was 
flowing backwards and uphill; in fact, so strong was the illu- 
sion that the syce and Lhaten thought it to be real, and bowed 
down in worship of a supposed miracle. 

Before long our thoughts were turned in other directions, for 
we met a Lhasa nobleman and his suite travelling in the 
opposite direction to us. He had, it seemed, recently been 
appointed lay Governor of the district in the extreme west of 
Tibet, and was then on his way to take up his new post. All 
of the servants were mounted, and a little way behind came 
another twenty mules carrying the new Governor’s baggage. 
It was indeed a most splendid procession. 

The harness was ornamented with tufts of red wool, and 
around the necks of many of the animals were strings of bells 
mounted on leather straps, so that there was a vast amount 
of jingling as the procession passed. . Most of the servitors were 
armed with modern and very efficient-looking rifles, and the 
leaders had also long whips with which they drove our own and 
all other parties out of the way. 

The servitors of lower grade were clothed in dresses of red 
wool, though the wool was of the finest texture. On their 
heads they had huge flat red caps, like giant inverted plates 
covered with red braid. The Governor himself, and the higher 
members of his staff, wore dresses of silk, beautifully brocaded, 
and for the most part yellow. Tibet, of course, is far too cold 
to support the silkworm, so that all silk has to be imported 
from China. 

Although all along the way sueh an official would be housed in 
the best rest-houses, the services supplied would anyhow be 
primitive, so that the large retinue of servants was really 
necessary. Half of the servants are placed before, and half 
behind him, riding single, or sometimes double, file. Two of 








A TIBETAN LAMA ORCHESTRA 





TIBETAN NOBLEMEN 





GOSSIP AND CUSTOMS 221 


the most important servants, however, ride some considerable 
distance ahead. These are the machen, or the cook, and the 
nyerpa, or the chief butler. They must get to the destined 
rest-house before the others, so as to have both food and room 
ready for the Governor when he arrives. 

The procession of a nobleman in Tibet is indeed an 
imposing spectacle, but most of the splendour is only gained 
by the severe oppression of the peasants along the route 
of march. 

The Tibetan peasant suffers under the system of indirect 
taxation known as the wla. According to the wla law every 
family, according to its wealth, must supply, free of charge, 
to every Government official armed with a permit, a certain 
number of riding and transport animals for the use of himself 
and his servants while travelling along the road. Not only 
do the peasants have to lend their animals to the officials free 
of charge, but they must also supply all the food for the 
animals without compensation. They must accompany the 
animals in order to feed and attend to them, and finally they 
must silently bear the loss of their animals should any of them 
die on the road, as very frequently happens owing to the 
outrageous usage which the ponies and mules receive at the 
hands of the official’s servants. Needless to say, this ula system 
is none too beloved by the populace. 

As soon as the Governor and his party came in sight, all of 
us dismounted from our ponies and withdrew to the side of 
the road. “Satan” and the elder of our companions, being 
supposedly of higher ranks, contented themselves with remov- 
ing their hats as the procession rode past, but I and the other 
members of the party were forced to give the more formal 


Tibetan salutation. This consists of opening the mouth and » 


sticking out the tongue—surely a most curious way of showing 
respect! The fists were also clenched and the thumbs were 
elevated as a sign of surrender, while ‘‘ Diogenes ’’ and I were 
even more humble and with our open palm pressed our right 
ear forward. | 
The Governor, of course, made no answer to our salute, and, 
in fact, two of his servants, out of pure devilment, lashed out 
at us with their whips and gave me a stinging blow on the 
shoulders. I was quite satisfied, however, to get off as lightly 


222 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


as this, for I had feared that our party might be stopped and 
interrogated. 

About two hours later we came to the village of Yasé, where 
we had to halt for a short time and surrender our borrowed 
ponies, as our travelling-companions had now come to the end 
of their journey. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


INTO THE LION’S MOUTH 


ie) 


It was still very early in the day, and I had intended after 
a few minutes’ halt to push on to Pedé Dzong, several miles 
farther on, but on arriving at the village I received a most 
serious shock which necessitated a change of plans. 

My long absence from Darjeeling had begun to excite 
comment, and when no news came from Sikkim as to my 
whereabouts, suspicions began to be aroused. Finally, the 
news that I had been seen near Lachen made it certain that 
I had entered Tibet and was probably trying to make my way 
to Lhasa. 

Certain agents of the Tibetan Government immediately 
sent news to the Lhasa authorities of the rumours that had got 
abroad, and on the 7th of February, the day I left Shigatsé, 
the Lhasa Cabinet had been informed that I was probably 
already in the country, and was without doubt heading for 
the Sacred City. The fact that no news regarding me had 
come from the outlying posts made them certain that I was 
trying to get there in disguise, and consequently the next day 
orders had been sent out instructing all the local officials to 
keep a sharp look-out for me, to have me stopped, imprisoned, 
and sent back immediately. Another day or two having 
elapsed without news of my capture, the Government had 
issued further orders that all travellers coming in the direction 
of Lhasa were to be stopped and examined, so as to be sure 
that no one slipped through their fingers. 

As the result of these orders sharp watches had been held 
at all the main roads, but as we had been journeying from 
Shigatsé by a side-road along which official communication 
is much slower, we had hitherto heard nothing of these exciting 


223 


224 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


events. But we had now come to the point where our side-road 
joined the great highway leading from Gyangtsé to Lhasa, so 
that here the wildest rumours regarding the “‘ foreign devil ”’ 
had become public property. Consequently we found the 
villagers much excited about the matter, and we were questioned 
as to whether we had seen anything of the intruder—questions, 
of course, which we answered in the negative. 

It was very fortunate that we had been travelling with and 
arrived at Yasé in the company of people who were well known 
in the village, so that not the slightest suspicion seemed to fall 
on any member of the party. Our Tibetan companions were 
to halt here, so that we were no longer to travel under their 
protection, and I became obsessed with fears as to what might 
happen to us during the next few days. We were still seventy- 
five miles from Lhasa, and as the whole of that distance would 
lie along the great high-road over which the strictest watch 
would be kept, I hardly knew what to do. So far we had 
escaped detection largely because no one was on the look-out 
particularly for us, and though I felt much more at home in 
my disguise and had greatly benefited by having been thrown 
into the closest contact with my fellow-travellers, I could not 
believe that I should escape detection if a close personal 
examination were to be made. 

I had, however, either to give up the whole adventure, or 
else to press on in spite of these new dangers, and, of course, 
I chose the latter alternative, though I determined to make no 
more dangerous experiments such as the eating of chickens 
or the surreptitious cooking of oatmeal. 

Only one change was made in our arrangements. Between 
Yasé and Lhasa we should have to pass through two towns 
which were the capitals of districts, and where there were 
Governors and military officials in residence. These were 
Pedé Dzong and Chushul. Ordinarily I should have spent the 
night in both places, but I knew, as a result of instructions 
from Lhasa, much stricter watch would be kept in these towns 
than in the smaller villages, so I decided to halt only at inter- 
mediate points. In accordance with this plan I concluded it 
wise to go no farther this day, but to spend the night in Yasé. 

It was still very early, so rather than spend the whole time 
in the rest-house I went out for a long walk in order to add 


INTO THE LION’S MOUTH 225 


further details to the map of the country which I was making. 
I took Lhaten with me, and also my materials for disguise, as 
I wished to repair any defects which time might have made, 
and it was easier and safer to do this out in the open than in 
the village. As soon as we were out of sight Lhaten touched 
me up, renewing my disguise as well as could be, after which 
I threw the pigments away, for I was afraid that our baggage 
might be searched at some time or other, when the discovery 
of such articles would give our secret away entirely. 

We then continued our walk, as I wanted to catch a glimpse 
of the famous Samding Monastery, which was not very far 
away. Just ahead of us we caught sight of an arm of the 
Yamdro Lake, the largest lake in Tibet, and one of the largest 
lakes in the world, but as we approached it I noticed the river 
rapidly dwindled down, then took a turn to the right and 
vanished! This very much surprised me, as the Rong River 
is supposed to have its source in the Yamdro Lake, to be, in 
fact, the only outlet for the huge lake which is fed, according 
to report, by several considerable streams. And yet the river 
has certainly no direct connection with the lake. Remember- 
ing the phenomenon of the hidden tributary of the Brahma- 
putra, and the mysterious springs we had noticed that morning, 
I am inclined to think that a certain amount of water from the 
lake finds its way to the river by some underground source. 
In any case, it cannot be much, for the Rong River is never 
very large, though geologically it seems to have been much 
more important in the past. 

Just at this point, about the short stretch of land between the 
source of the river and the outer arm of the lake, I noticed an 
enormous amount of wild life, chiefly hares, cranes, wild-duck, 
and the beautiful Brahman duck, quite common in parts of 
India, and which has the reputation of being uneatable. 
Once again the tameness of the animals and fowl was 
remarkable, and we were almost among them before they 
took to flight. 

But we were soon to see that, though they had little to fear 
from man, they had numerous other enemies with whom they 
had to contend, for lurking in the background were a number of 
foxes and wolves. On one occasion we saw a hare chased and 
finally caught by a wolf, | 

P 


226 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


None of the foxes or wolves were either black or grey. They 
all had the sandy-brown appearance that fitted in so well with 
the landscape and which, in fact, made them invisible until they 
began to move. 

With the usual conception of Tibet before one, that of arid 
wastes and absence of vegetation, the abundance of animal life, 
both wild and domestic, seemed extraordinary. In a general 
visualization of Tibet, the very fertile tracks, particularly in 
the east and south-east, and also the pastoral regions, are but 
dimly realized, when, as a matter of fact, the wide range and 
multitude of fauna in such parts is remarkable. Even in the 
higher plateaux, and in the little-known northern tracts, at an 
average altitude of approximately 16,000 feet above sea-level, 
the animal life is exceptionally plentiful. The chief animals of 
Tibet one has come to assume as being yak and sheep, dogs and 
ponies, some goats, antelope, and wild asses, whereas, while 
these are found roaming about in large numbers everywhere 
in the valleys and over the upland pasturages, wolves, black 
and yellow bears, lynx, and in some parts tigers and leopards, 
abound, and also smaller beasts such as hares, marmots, and 
lagomys (the tailless rabbit), rats, and other rodents ; martens, 
weasels, and badgers, otters and porcupines; wild-fowl is 
plentiful: ducks, geese, partridges, sheldrakes, and sand- 
grouse. 

Arrived at the shore of the lake, we found the water covered 
with a thick sheet of ice. We here met the Gyangtsé—Lhasa 
road, for the road runs along the banks of the lake for some 
considerable distance ; but as there was no village along this 
stretch, we turned to the right and followed the road for some 
little distance, until we came in view of the Samding Monastery, 
which eventually we sighted at the extreme end of the lake, only 
a mile or two away, placed on top of a little hill which rose some 
300 feet above the level of the lake. 

Samding (lit. the Temple of Soaring Meditation) is one of 
the most famous shrines anywhere in Tibet. It is in one 
way unique in that about half of the inhabitants are monks 
and the other half are nuns, while the head of the monastery, 
with all its branches, is a woman, a reincarnating embodiment 
of Dorje-Pamo, the Pig-Faced Goddess, one of the most popular 
of the Tibetan deities, 


INTO THE LION’S MOUTH 227 


Her monastery belongs to one of the red-hat, or unreformed, 
orders, which are frowned upon by the prevailing yellow-hat 
hierarchy ; but an exception has been made in her case, and 
she is treated with royal honours by the Lhasa Government, 
sharing with the Trashi Lama and the Dalai Lama the privilege 
of riding in a sedan chair when she travels. She is also exempt 
from the rule that all nuns must shave off their hair, and is 
permitted to wear her hair long, but, on the other hand, she is 
never permitted to assume a recumbent position. In the day- 
time she can sleep sitting up in a chair, but the whole night she 
must spend in meditation in the rigorous position demanded 
for this practice. 7 

She is reputed to be possessed of various magic powers, one 
of which reminds us of the ancient Greek legends of Circe. The 
story goes that in 1717 Tibet was invaded by a body of Tartar 
soldiers who were Mohammedans. On approaching this monas- 
tery,* ‘their chief sent word to the Dorje-Pamo to appear 
before him that he might see if she really had, as reported, a 
pig’s head. A mild answer was returned him, but incensed at 
her refusing to obey his summons, he tore down the walls and 
broke into the sanctuary. He found it deserted, not a human 
being in it, only eighty pigs and as many sows. . . under 
the lead of a big sow! When the Tartars had given up all 
idea of sacking Samding, the pigs suddenly disappeared, 
seeming to become venerable-looking lamas and _ nuns, 
with the saintly-looking Dorje-Pamo at their head. Filled 
with astonishment and veneration for the sacred character of 
the lady abbess, the chief made immense presents to the 
lamasery.”’ 

I did not dare draw too near the monastery with its quaint 
inhabitants, for there is a story that, as a result of the visit of 
Sarat Chandra Das, the Indian babu, many years ago, the water 
of the tiny Dumo Lake changed its colour and became poison- 
ous, and ever since then the inhabitants have been particularly 
keen in trying to keep foreigners away. As Samding did not 
lie on the way to Lhasa, I did not see any reason for need- 
lessly poking my head into danger, and so, after we had seen 
what we wanted to, Lhaten and I turned back, retracing our 
way to the village of Yasé. 

* Sarat Chandra Das, Journey to Central Tibet, p. 139. 


228 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Poor Lhaten had been much frightened by the news we had 
heard in the village, and during our walk tried to dissuade me 
from going on with the venture. He suggested that, if I go on, 
I at least do so openly, so that the worst that could befall 
would be imprisonment and expulsion from the country, for, 
if I were caught in my disguise, he thought that I should 
certainly be killed. I told him that we had now gone too far 
to turn back and I meant to carry on till the end, no matter 
how great the risk ; and though the faithful man grumbled, he 
promised to stand by me to the end. . 

Once back in the village, we found the syce and “ Satan ’”’ 
busy with accounts. They were trying to reckon how much 
they owed our travelling-companions for the loan of the horses. 
The Tibetans are extraordinarily bad at arithmetic, and find 
it impossible to add even the simplest problem of arithmetic in 
their heads. 

Pen-and-paper calculations are also almost unknown, so 
that they are forced to count either on their fingers, with little 
stones, or with beads. This last is the most common way, and 
nearly every Tibetan is possessed of a rosary, which he some- 
times uses for religious purposes to tell his prayers, and 
sometimes for secular purposes to add up his accounts. In 
the larger cities use is also made of the abacus, which is so 
frequently employed in China. 

Even with this aid the Tibetans find calculation very hard 
work, and it took our friends nearly an hour, squatting in the 
courtyard and fingering their beads, before they arrived at the 
sum which I had done in my head in a very few minutes. 

This slowness of wits the Tibetans share with the Mongolians, 
and in consequence both peoples were, in the old days of 
Chinese influence, frequently fleeced by the more nimble- 
witted Chinese merchants. And this is one of the reasons for 
the deep-seated hatred which both the Mongolians and the 
Tibetans have for their Celestial neighbours. 

I had found the ruse of joining a Tibetan caravan so useful 
in escaping suspicion in Yasé, that I decided to join another 
one, and sent Lhaten around the village to find out if there 
was any other party on its way to Lhasa. He found that there 
was none which was going all the way to the capital, but in the 
next rest-house there was a party of three men who were going 


INTO THE LION’S MOUTH 229 


as far as Chushul, about forty-five miles from Lhasa, and for 
lack of anyone better, we arranged to go on with these folk. 
To my regret we were comparatively late in starting, and 
it was nearly four o’clock before we left the village. In this 
case our new friends had no extra horses to spare, so we were 
once more forced to walk. But I was not altogether sorry for 
this, for though my illness made me very weak, pedestrianism 
fitted in much better with my réle of coolie, and I felt that by 
tramping there was much less chance of discovery. It was 
now a case of walking into the lion’s den, at least so I felt it, 
and so, as an additional precaution, I arranged to carry the 
largest and bulkiest-looking of the burdens. “ Satan,”’ of 
course, was riding, and I kept close to the tail of his pony. 
While it was still dark, we once more reached the edge of 
the lake, but this time, turning to the left, we kept on for many 
miles along the water’s edge. When daylight broke we could 
see before us, a quarter of a mile away from the lake, the great 
castle of Pedé Dzong—sometimes written Palti Dzong. I had 
hoped to pass this under the cover of night, but our delay had 
exposed us to the sight of one of the watchmen on the turrets. 
We had no intention of halting in the little village underneath 
the castle, but as we were hastening through it, two petty 
officials ran down from the dzong and commanded us to stop. 
They were obviously of no great rank, but were clothed in 
long woollen dresses of a dark blue—red colour, with the curious 
broad, flat hats we had observed the night before. They 
carried no firearms, but had long whips with bamboo handles. 
We were interrogated by these officials as to where we had 
come from, and whether we had seen a foreigner on the way. 
At this moment I thought indeed the game was up, but though 
they subjected “‘ Satan,’ as master, to the closest possible 
scrutiny, I, as the servant, was only very cursorily examined, 
less attention being paid to me even than to Lhaten. Our 
travelling-companions were already known on this route, so 
that they were not physically inspected, although they were 
also questioned as to the people they had seen on the road. 
In my case they were content to tear open my dress, and finding 
my chest to be as brown and as dirty as the others, we were 
allowed to pass. My eyes, the feature of which I was most 
afraid, they strangely enough passed over unnoticed, but in 


230 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


any case the Tibetan mind could not imagine that a white 
man should be willing to trudge thirty miles a day carrying 
thirty-five pounds on his back, while his servant rode a pony 
in great state ahead of him. 

We were eventually told that we could go on without any 
further trouble, and I was very glad to do so. Our companions 
suggested that, as we had been delayed, we should stay and 
have our rest in Pedé Dzong, but “ Satan,” to my relief, 
negatived this suggestion, and we put our best foot forward 
on the road. For mile after mile our course lay along the 
side of the great Yamdro Lake and we could begin to realize 
something of its vastness. 

Set in a plain and surrounded by rich pastures, Lake Yamdro 
is one of the largest expanses of water in Tibet. It has a 
circumference of about Iog miles, and its waters are deep, 
while stretching out into it is the famous peninsula which 
terminates in the island-like head of To-nang. The peninsula 
joins the western shores by two narrow strips of land, and the 
natives liken it to a scorpion holding the shore by its two claws. 
At a point where one arm reaches the mainland has been 
built the renowned Samding Monastery, which I had seen the 
preceding day, while on the little hills running down the centre 
are four other monasteries owing allegiance to the Mother 
Superior of Samding. Yamdro Lake is 14,000 feet above 
sea-level, and its waters are perfectly fresh. Three small 
rivers empty into the lake from the south. The Rong 
River has its source at the north-west corner, and the lake 
receives the glacier drainage of the north-eastern area. 

The district supports a fairly large population, for to the 
south are low prairies which serve as pasturages for the nomad 
Dro-pas’ herds, while on the other plain, just beyond the 
mountains to the east, there is a deal of pony-grazing. On the 
north is a barrier of high mountains on a narrow strip which 
intervenes between the Brahmaputra and the lake, the river 
being 2,000 feet below the waters of the lake. The space 
between is but about eight miles wide, but the Kamba-la, 
as this range is called, effectually prevents any leakage from 
Yamdro into the river. 

Off the south shore is the small island of Vaubis where a 
branch of the Samding Monastery is built, and not far from 


INTO THE LION’S MOUTH 231 


here a smaller lake stretches up to the boundary of the Yamdro, 
being cut off only by a ridge of rocks. This lake, called 
“Rombudza Tso,” or the Corpse-worm Bottle Lake, is the 
burial-place of monks, and is for this reason given so strange a 
name. 

Yamdro, sometimes called Lake Palti, but quite wrongly, 
is situated in a really attractive position, the high snow-clad 
mountains contrasting with luxuriant pasturages, and there is 
a greater sense of active life here than in any other part of the 
Tibetan’ countryside through which I passed. 

Tibet is a land of lakes. One can scarcely make a day’s 
_ march without meeting with one or more sheets of water, mostly 
shallow ponds, though frequently of great size, lying in the 
hollow of the plains, or scooped-out basins on the hills. More 
often than not the lakes appear in groups, strung out one after 
another, or in batches in a circumscribed area. None of these 
lakes is supplied by an important stream, but presumably all 
rely on glacier drainage, or the melting of the snows, to replen- 
ish them. Here are to be found the highest-placed waters of 
the world, inland seas at an altitude above 15,000 feet. Hora 
Tso, which has 118 square miles surface, and has several islands, 
holds the record in height: it is 17,930 feet above sea-level. 
This is in North-west Tibet. The highest European lake is 
at Neuchatel, Switzerland, at an altitude of 1,437 feet, the 
record in South America being 13,700 feet (Guatapuri Lakes, 
Columbia), and in North America 4,200 feet (Lake Waterton, 
in the Rocky Mountains, U.S.A.). The largest Tibetan lake is 
K6k6 Nor, in the Nan-Shan mountain range of the north-east, 
which is 168 miles round, followed by Tsagyu Tso (or Chargut), 
Tso being ‘‘ Lake,” though frequently the saline waters are 
called ‘“ Tsakka,” i.e. “ Saltpit,’ which indicates to some 
extent the extreme salinity of most Tibetan lakes, especially 
in the northern territory. | 

A large number of the Tibetan lakes are excessively saline, 
so that as the waters evaporate, and recede from the shores, 
deposits of soda, potash, and borax are left as a fringe. The 
whole of the northern lakes appear to be heavily laden with 
salt, including the swamps and lakes of the Tang region, but in 
the Dro territory the waters are fresh and all contain supplies 
of fish. From native salt-collectors and travellers it is reported 


232 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


that nearly all the lakes of the north-western area are salty, 
and great quantities of salt are available in this district. Also 
pure chloride of potash is found in some places, being heaped up 
in piles. The cause is undoubtedly the widespread flooding 
of the rivers and the melting of the snows, which draw the salts 
from the ground and deposit them indiscriminately as the 
floods abate or the waters evaporate. The cold and heat take 
up the work, and eventually the wind scatters the salts, or blows 
them into large mounds. Some lakes hold a quantity of impure 
nitrate of potash, which is collected and used for making gun- 
powder. 

Near the lakes are found the hot springs which the Tibetans 
appreciate so much. Most of these contain a quantity of salt. 

Everywhere one sees signs which suggest a tendency of the 
lakes to recede. And the traditions around the Manasarowar 
Lakes, near the Kumoan Himalayas, seem to bear out this view, 
for the tales treat of waters 500 miles across, whereas in no place 
do they now exceed twenty miles in length. On the islands 
with which many of the larger lakes are dotted are built 
monasteries and shrines which the peasants visit chiefly in 
winter, when they can cross on the ice, for the Tibetan native 
is not a capable boatman, and in summer has other things to 
occupy his time. Where the waters appear near mountain 
peaks of any importance, the peaks are given a masculine name, 
or male affix, while the lakes are always feminine: a curious 
conceit which is either rooted in tradition, or has given rise to 
the strange stories which abound in which mountain and lake 
have an animate existence. 

As we went along the banks of the lake we noticed a great 
number of ground-mice. There were thousands of them, and 
I wondered what they could find to eat. As there were very 
few villages along this stretch, they could not feed from stolen 
barley ; in fact, the only thing visible on which they could 
subsist was a little moss. 

It was, and has since remained, a mystery to me why these 
little ground-mice have chosen just this place to settle in. 
Along the Brahmaputra Valley I had seen nothing of them, and 
in fact the only other place in Tibet where I found them was on 
the bleak Pari Plain. There was one difference between the 
Pari mice and the Yamdro variety. Around Pari the mice were 


INTO THE LION’S MOUTH 233 


of a light-brown greyish colour, while around Yamdro their 
coats had in its brown a marked touch of red. But both varie- 
ties had one thing in common—they had no tail. They were 
very fat and stumpy-looking, and in general appearance much 
more like guinea-pigs than mice. They had a curious way of 
squatting on their hind-legs and surveying all about them until 
we came sufficiently near to frighten them, when they scurried 
into their holes. The ground was full of these holes; every 
two or three yards we came upon a fresh one. “‘ Satan,” busy 
in reciting his prayers for the day, did not notice them and 
allowed his pony to stumble in one of them, which resulted in a 
nasty fall. He had been going so slowly, however, that the fall 
was not serious and he was only badly shaken, but on picking 
himself up he started cursing me with enormous gusto, as if I 
had been responsible for the mishap. 

We had no time to argue. It was necessary for all of us to 
push forward, in spite of fatigue, at our best possible speed, for 
we had in front of us another difficult pass to cross that evening, 
and it was doubtful whether we could make it before nightfall, 
as it is supposed to be a full day’s march from Pedé Dzong. 
We shuffled along as best we could. 

The poor pony was utterly exhausted, and ‘‘ Satan” had 
great difficulty in urging him beyond a walk. What beating 
could not do, however, was effected by jealousy. For some 
extraordinary reason the aged donkey we had bought in 
Shigatsé, and who had served us remarkably well, had won 
our pony’s undying hatred. Both observed a strict neutrality 
with the mules, but by bites and kicks tried to render life 
obnoxious to one another, and on this occasion, when the pony 
tried to fall behind, we had only to spur the donkey on in front 
to make the pony gather together all his energy to keep ahead. 
He obviously did not mind allowing a mule to take the leader- 
ship, but to resign his post to a mere donkey was too great a 
blow to his pride. 

We kept steadily on all the morning without reaching any 
other village, and I was suffering from the pangs of hunger 
rendered all the more acute because we could see no resting- 
place along the coast ahead of us. A little after noon, however, 
we suddenly came upon a tiny one-roomed house hidden in a 
depression. This house served as a midday rest-house for 


234 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


travellers along the highway and has been given the name of 
Tsakang. Here we stayed only half an hour, and, having 
eaten as heartily as we could, started again on our journey. 

Nearly the whole of the afternoon we plodded along the shore 
of the lake. We saw quite a good deal of traffic. Two or 
three times we met caravans of mules carrying bales of wool 
down to Pari to be stored there until the spring, when the passes 
would be open. The wool then could be taken down to 
Kalimpong. Nearly the whole of the wool-trade of Tibet is 
in the hands of a small group of traders, most of thern inhabi- 
tants of the Chumbi Valley : and a very good thing they make 
out of it. Even Tibet, in spite of its backward condition, is 
confronted with the very modern problem of monopoly and 
trusts. In the last few years several attempts have been made 
to break this wool combine, but in all cases they have 
failed. Frequently the would-be competitors have died 
mysterious and sudden deaths. Poisoning has been made into 
an accomplished art in Tibet, and is very frequently employed 
in settling private feuds. Aconite is the poison most fre- 
quently employed, but others are not infrequent, and I believe 
that there are three or four poisons employed by Tibetans 
which are completely unknown to the European toxicology. 
In addition to its secret use, aconite was also used openly in 
preparing poisoned arrows, with which the Tibetans were 
accustomed to fight. At the present day guns of modern 
make are rapidly displacing the aconite-tipped arrows, except 
in the outlying districts, but the use of this and other drugs 
for secret poisoning seems to show no sign of abating. 

All the way we could see that the lake was covered with a 
thick coat of ice, though with occasional seams indicating some 
flow. Several times during the day we saw men walking across 
the frozen lake from the mainland to the peninsula, or island, 
in the middle, for hidden behind the hills on the great neck 
of land were several villages. In most cases these crossings 
were accomplished without difficulty or incident, but on one 
occasion, late in the afternoon, we were the spectators of a 
tragedy. Two men who were walking nearly in the centre 
came to a point where there was a bad flaw in the ice. We 
could see they had to jump across a seam. The ice on the 
other side was obviously weak, for it cracked under them and 


INTO THE LION’S MOUTH 235 


they were precipitated into the freezing water below. They 
attempted to crawl out, but they could not find a block 
of ice capable of supporting their weight, and soon they were 
so numbed by the cold that they fell back helpless and sank 
beneath the water. We could see their heads appear once or 
twice, and then they sank again—and disappeared for ever. 

I was astonished at the phlegm with which my companions 
looked on at a catastrophe happening before our eyes. We 
passed one of the caravans just at the time, and its members 
paused for a few moments to look at the tragedy taking place 
a few hundred yards away, but they continued their amiable 
_ chatter and no one made any move to save the unfortunates. 
Help was, I admit, impossible; the victims were too far 
away ; but I remembered the cold plunge to which I had been 
subjected to the preceding day, and I could not but shiver 
at their fate. 

Once or twice we saw where formerly there had been villages 
of moderate size, but which had now become deserted. This 
is a sight which is very common in Tibet, for Tibet presents 
the appearance of a dying country, though in the last few 
years, since I912, there have been signs of revival. In this 
particular instance, the downfall of these villages was due, so 
my companions told me, to the abolition of fishing. Although 
fish is considered a dirty food, the Tibetan peasants not 
infrequently eat it, and the Yamdro Lake is noted for the 
size and excellence of its fish. But the present Dalai Lama, 
who is more than usually strict in his observance of religious 
injunctions, has issued strict orders that the catching of fish 
should be stopped, and, although in the more out-of-the-way 
places this order is not very strictly observed, in the villages 
nearer the highway this order has had a very deleterious 
effect ; the poor villagers, finding their chief means of a liveli- 
hood taken from them, were forced to go elsewhere. 

In Tibet far greater attention seems to be paid to animal 
welfare than to the welfare of human beings. 

About four o’clock in the afternoon we came to a parting 
of the ways. To the right a road continued along the shores 
of the lake, leading to the villages and the pasture-lands on 
the other side. To the left a trail started up the side of the 
mountain leading to the Kampa Pass. We had to follow the 


236 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


latter, and soon began a steep ascent. The Yamdro Lake lies 
just over 14,000 feet above sea-level, and the mountain 
range dividing it from the Brahmaputra Valley, which lies 
just on the other side, is about a thousand feet higher. The 
upward climb was not, therefore, very long, but we and our 
animals were all so fatigued—I in particular, owing to the 
nervous excitement of the morning—that the ascent seemed 
endless. Half-way up one of the mules suddenly sat 
down, and it required all of our efforts to get her on to her 
feet again. : 

The latter part of the climb was considerably less steep. 
Shortly before sunset we arrived at the top of the pass, and 
could once more see the Brahmaputra Valley stretched out 
before us. The scenery was magnificent, in fact, we had here 
the finest view which I had ever seen in the country, but as 
I was acting the part of a Tibetan peasant it was impossible 
to stop too long to admire natural beauty. 

As usual, just at the top of the pass we found two chortens, 
or shrines. We added our stones to the little pile in front of 
each, and also tied a rag to the brush sticking out above the 
stone-heaps. We recited a charm (mantram) in honour of the 
gods, rested for a few moments, and then began our long 
descent. The descent was much longer than the ascent, for 
whereas the pass lies only 1,000 feet above the level of the 
lake, it is 3,000 feet above the level of the Brahmaputra Valley, 
which lies much lower. The descent was in places extra- 
ordinarily steep and rendered somewhat dangerous by the dark- 
ness which was now rapidly falling. In one place we came upon 
the body of a mule that had fallen from the upper portion of 
the road almost immediately above us. The corpse lay in 
the little stream which ran down from here to the village at 
the bottom of the valley. We later found the stream was the 
water-supply for this village ; but the Tibetans are not at all 
fastidious in these matters, though they have a healthy dislike 
of drinking cold water, water being only drunk in the form of 
chang or tea, the preparation of which renders it more or less 
safe. 

It is curious to find how in many cases popular superstitions 
have as their basis a certain amount of truth. The Tibetans 
regard tea as a preventive of typhoid and other forms of fever. 


INTO THE LION’S MOUTH 237 


The truth is, of course, that in order to prepare the tea they have 
to boil the water, thereby killing the germs. 

It took us about two hours and a half to descend the pass, 
and we came at last to the Brahmaputra Valley itself. Here we 
found the village of Kampabartsé, and here we rested for the 
night. Our rest-house, I was glad to find, was not in, but on 
the outskirts of, the village. It was in conformity with the 
general type—the common-room being but a walled-in stall 
in one corner of the courtyard. I noticed several points of 
difference between the inhabitants of this village and those of 
the villages in which we had hitherto stayed, especially in 
_ reference to the language, one or two minor customs, and also 
the dress of the people, more particularly of the women. The 
hairdress of the women was one of the most important changes. 
This transformation, we found, was due to the fact that we 
were now in the province of U, and had left Tsang behind us, 
the technical dividing-line being the pass. We were now, . 
therefore, not only in Tibet, but in the very heart of Tibet, in 
the province of which Lhasa itself is the principal city. 


CHAPTER XIX 
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 


It was thrilling to feel that we had come so far in spite of the 
innumerable obstacles which had stood in our path, but I 
knew that the nearer we got to the capital the stricter the watch 
would become. 

That evening we were to encounter one peculiar difficulty. 
We had changed a good deal of our Indian money into Tibetan 
currency, but the hire of the ponies to Yasé had taken a good 
deal of our stock, and on arriving at Kampabartsé we found our 
little store of Tibetan coins was completely exhausted. We 
had, of course, some of our old friends, ten-rupee Indian notes, 
and ‘‘ Satan ”’ tried to get our landlady to change these, but the 
old dame had never seen one before and was very suspicious. 
In Pedé Dzong, which is a much larger community, we should 
have had little or no difficulty in changing a ten-rupee note, but 
in thus staying at the smaller villages to avoid the officials, we 
had got ourselves into additional hot water. 

The old nemo proved as adamant as any boarding-house 
landlady in Bloomsbury, and discovering our financial difficul- 
ties refused to let us have any fuel or chang until we had paid 
cash, and what we proffered as cash she refused to accept. 

In these circumstances we hardly knew what to do. 
*“‘ Satan ’’ said that the only thing was to sell something. But 
what in the world had we to sell? Lhaten suggested one of, 
the tin pots in which we were accustomed to boil our tea—for 
cooking utensils are among the things the traveller in Tibet 
must take along with him. We had two, and one must be 
sacrificed. Just at this moment I remembered that, in addi- 
tion to our ten-rupee paper notes, I had a few silver rupees in 
my bundle and I quickly got these out. Calling the emo back, 

238 


RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 239 


we proffered them to her. She still seemed hesitant, but after 
clinking these silver coins together she decided to accept them, 
and so after all’ we secured fire and something to drink. 

I had been very much afraid that our possession of only 
Indian coins might lead to suspicion as to our identity, so we 
were careful to tell the good lady that we had been on a trading 
tour to Kalimpong, where we had been paid for our goods in 
Indian money and had not yet exchanged it for Tibetan, as the 
rate of exchange was more favourable in Lhasa—a point which 
was in fact true. But I was grateful to note that she was not at 
all upset about the matter, and said that only a few weeks 
previously some travellers had attempted to pass off some one- 
rupee notes on a rest-house in the same village. 

Fortunately, while all this colloquy was going on we were 
alone, for no one was staying at the rest-house except our party, 
and our three companions had gone off to see an acquaintance 
in another part of the village. 

After our meal, as I wanted to put then nemo in a good humour, 
I suggested to Lhaten that he call her in and give her a cup of 
chang. This is frequently done in Tibet, and the old lady was 
not slow in accepting our invitation, in fact she stayed on 
with us interminably and regaled us with her gossip. 

I was nodding in one corner and paying little attention to the 
conversation, when suddenly I heard the woman mention that 
a foreigner was trying to get to Lhasa, and as we were coming 
from Kalimpong, she asked us if we had seen anything of him. 
Needless to say, we possessed no information regarding any such 
person. Lhaten added that though we had heard the rumour 
concerning him, he thought the whole thing was probably false. 

The good lady said she would like to see the “ foreign devil ”’ 
and give him a good piece of her mind, but she was sure that, 
so great was the vigilance of the officials and so powerful was 
the spiritual force of the Dalai Lama, the intruder would 
certainly be detected and sent back to his own village. 

I was interested in this latter statement as showing the 
implicit faith which the Tibetans have in the divinity and 
power of their suzerain. In spite of the many vicissitudes 
which have marked the reign of this and previous holders of the 
office, most Tibetans really believe that the Dalai Lama is 
omnipotent, and nearly all have faith in the omniscient, 


240 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


The fact that the present ruler was twice forced to flee the 
country at the peril of his life is glossed over or forgotten, 
or sometimes it is explained away. Our hostess was firmly 
convinced that by means of his spiritual powers the Dalai Lama 
could have told at any moment where I was and what I was 
doing. The only class of Tibetans who are sceptical on these 
matters are the monks, particularly the Lhasa monks, and 
those in immediate contact with the Court. 

The old lady left us at last. Our companions returned soon 
afterwards, and before long all of us were sound asleep. 

Very early the next morning we were off again, and painfully 
made our way in the dark, for there was no moon, and it was 
only the extraordinary road-knowledge of our companions that 
enabled us to make progress. For several miles our route lay 
along the south side of the great river: the murmuring of its 
stream a few hundred yards away was frequently in our ears. 
In the gloom we passed through several sleeping villages, one 
or two of which had some fine old trees about them. The 
watchdogs outside the houses barked at us, but we went on 
without stopping. A flank of hills began to close down on the 
river, forcing us nearer the banks, and here we found the road- 
way sandy. We were up to our knees in sand, but still we 
ploughed on in silence. 

Just before dawn we came to a very important landmark, 
the famous Chaksam Ferry, placed where the outreaching hill 
forms a cliff overhanging the river. Here is to be found a 
regular service of boats which carries passengers from one side 
of the river to the other. 

This is the only ferry along this portion of the Brahmaputra, 
and for some reason I had been terribly afraid of this spot, 
as it was possible here to see each traveller so closely that I 
felt sure an official would be posted at this place to examine 
all travellers. I was, therefore, particularly annoyed to find 
that the ferrymen were not yet awake, and when roused refused 
to cross until it was fully light. I shivered in the cold for a 
short while, and then, not wishing to remain too near the ferry 
hut, I continued for a few minutes along the cliff to catch a 
nearer glimpse of the monastery, a half-mile or so farther down. 

This monastery is a place of some repute, though it has only 
some hundred inhabitants. Its fame is largely due to the fact 


RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 241 


that it is the starting-point and base of the great iron suspension 
bridge which formerly spanned the Brahmaputra River at this 
point. | 

The great bridge is still standing, and very picturesque it 
looked in the early dawn, but it is no longer serviceable, as in 
recent years the river has greatly widened its banks, so that 
the farther or northern end of the bridge now forms a small 
island standing in the middle of the stream. The Tibetans 
did not have energy enough to extend the chain bridge to the 
present bank, and so have fallen back upon the ferry system 
for getting from one side to the other. 

Such is the decay of Tibetan vigour; the old bridge was 
well made and has stood the test of centuries. It was built 
by the King Tantong who was born about 1385, and is now 
a saint in the Tibetan religion, his image being worshipped in 
the adjoining monastery. The bridge was not his only 
engineering achievement, for he is said to have built 108 temples 
and shrines and seven other chain bridges over the Brahma- 
putra. It is said that some of the other bridges erected by 
him up the river are still in use. 

It was now quite light and high time to hasten back to the 
ferry. As we retraced our steps we were overtaken by a group 
of nuns from the convent, who also intended crossing the river. 
They were gaily chatting, and occasionally burst out into 
shrieks of laughter. Apparently their religious confessions 
did not interfere with their enjoyment of life. The heads of 
all these nuns were shaven, but I noticed that some of 
them wore curious thick wigs of coarse wool and coloured 
a dusky red. 

I was glad to find the ferrymen were at last getting ready. 
There were three or four of the Tibetan yak-hide coracles 
lying beside the bank. The nuns and the three or four other 
foot-passengers got into these, and though they sank deep in 
the water and, owing to their unwieldy shape, turned round 
and round in the centre of the stream, causing the womenfolk 
to squeal excitedly, they reached the other side safely. 

We had several animals with our party and so could not 
cross in these kowa, or coracles. For travellers such as ourselves 
there was provided a large rectangular, flat-bottomed wooden 
boat, the only one of its kind, I believe, anywhere in Tibet. 

Q 


242 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


We had a great deal of trouble in getting the animals into 
the ferry, and this awkward-shaped boat was very slow and 
cumbrous in its movements. But at last, with a bump, we 
reached the other side, a broad, sandy plain opening before us. 
Contrary to my fears, no attempt was made to search or examine 
us. This may have been partly due to the fact that the ferry 
is privately owned, being, in fact, the property of the monastery 
which we had seen, a considerable portion of the revenue of 
which comes from the toll exacted from each passenger. For 
our whole party, however, consisting of five persons,’a pony, 
two mules, and a donkey—our companions, of course, paid 
their own fees—we paid only three trangkas (9d.) ferry 
charges, so that in this case monopoly does not seem to have 
brought about excessive rates. 

Our road now lay for several miles along the north bank of 
the Brahmaputra. Our companions were anxious to get on 
to Chushul, their home, and without waiting for us trotted on 
ahead. ‘‘ Satan,’’ who, of course, was also mounted, accom- 
panied them, and we agreed to meet at Chushul. 

At this point the Brahmaputra Valley is a little under 
12,000 feet above sea-level, very low for Central Tibet, so that 
it forms one of the warmest and most fertile parts of the 
country ; consequently we could see villages strung out in all 
directions only a very few miles apart, and passed through 
two or three on the way to Chushul. 

In one of these there was an inviting-looking courtyard which 
stood upon our left. “‘ Paris,’ the mule, also saw it, and 
suddenly bolted into it, and it was only with the greatest 
difficulty that we could get her out. In fact, she kicked up 
such a rumpus that the whole courtyard was in an uproar 
before we could get under way. The poor mule was trying 
to give us a signal that she had come to the end of her resources, 
but it was a signal which we could not understand, and which, 
alas ! in any case we could not have heeded. The good farmer 
into whose courtyard we had broken was not at all inclined 
to take matters philosophically ; he cursed us most roundly, 
and even pursued us down the road to throw stones at us, and 
to give us a full account of our ancestry on both sides. 

This little incident refreshed us wonderfully, and we con- 
tinued on our way in a much better frame of mind. The plain 


“ 


RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 243 


soon narrowed down to a gully just sufficient to let us pass 
along in single file, and then we rounded a tapering cliff and 
found ourselves at the important town of Chushul. 

Our companions had stationed a boy outside to wait for us 
and to show us where their house was, so that before long we 
were able to halt and take our midday rest. 

Chushul occupies an important strategic position. At 
this point the Kyichu, or River of Felicity, flows into the 
Brahmaputra. Lhasa lies some forty-five miles up the 
Kyichu,'so that here we were to depart from the great river 
again. 

In 1910, when the Chinese invaded Tibet and the Dalai 
Lama was forced to flee to India, the Chinese sent a detachment 
to capture His Holiness and bring him back. A Tibetan rear- 
guard commanded by Namgang, the present Tsarong Shapé, 
Commander-in-Chief of the Tibetan Army, made a stand at 
this place and by a magnificent battle managed to keep the 
Chinese back for several days, giving the Dalai Lama time to 
reach the frontier in safety. This battle was destined to be the 
turning-point in Namgang’s career, and thereby a decisive 
point in Tibet’s destiny. 

On the top of the near-by hill are the ruins of an old dzong, or 
castle, but this had long since been destroyed, and though 
Chushul is the centre of an administrative district and has its 
two Governors, these officials are now housed in a large dwelling 
inside the village, adequate and imposing, but obviously having 
nothing of the castle or fortress in its construction. 

This was very interesting to me, as indicating a gradual 
change in Tibet’s social organization. Just as in Europe, the 
walled city has disappeared, and with it the use of castles as the 
headquarters of the governing powers, so at the present time in 
Tibet, many hundreds of years later, a similar tendency is 
evident, and probably there, as elsewhere, the dzong, or castle, 
will give way to the palace. In some ways it is a pity, for the 
castles form one of Tibet’s chief glories. 

Among the various buildings at Chushul belonging to the 
Government I noticed one which had an enormous hole in the 
wall. This was pointed out to me, and it was explained that 
not long previously an elephant was sent by the Maharaja of 
Nepal to the Dalai Lama. On his way up to Lhasa he had 


244 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


been housed in this building, and during the night had leaned 
against the wall, with the result that the whole side had given 
way. Frightened by the damage which he himself had done, 
the elephant had bolted and caused a tremendous turmoil and 
excitement before he was recaptured. 

While we were resting after our lunch, our hosts regaled us 
with tales of the dishonesty of Cheshul people as a whole, and 
the wicked tricks which were played upon travellers to deprive 
them of their money and valuables. I could well believe these 
tales, as the Chushul thieves have a reputation throughout the 
country, but I was surprised at the naiveté with which the local 
inhabitants confessed such matters. But in other ways it is 
interesting to note how the Tibetan people have a shrewd 
suspicion of their own weaknesses. 

We were singularly lucky in staying with acquaintances in 
Chushul. In this way not only were we saved from the wiles 
of thieves, but, as I found out later, we escaped a searching 
examination on the part of the officials. 

Chushul is so much regarded as the gateway of Lhasa that 
especial orders had been issued to the rest-house keepers here 
to report the arrival of any unknown travellers so that they 
could be searched by the officials, and it was believed impos- 
sible that anyone could escape through the Chushul net ; but 
our travelling-companions, who were, of course, well known in 
the place, vouched for us to the officials, and we got through 
without difficulty. 

Even so, I was very anxious to get away from the village as 
soon as possible, and shortly after noon we started out again. 
Very much to my regret, we had now to go on alone, as our 
friends were staying behind and we could find no other party to 
which we could attach ourselves. 

We were now in the Kyi Valley. For about ten miles it 
preserved a wide, open formation, and looked nearly as broad 
as the valley of the main Brahmaputra River. For the first few 
miles it was very thickly inhabited. 

On the road between two of the villages we saw a very 
interesting marriage procession. 

The marriage ceremonies of Tibetans of all ranks and classes 
are more or less alike, and as there is no caste system, though 
the aristocrats and officials are a proud, domineering race, it 


RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 245 


sometimes occurs that rich men claim wives from among the 
women of the poorer people, though it is very rare that male 
commoners marry into the families of the higher grades. Most 
frequently, when an aristocratic girl fails to contract a good 
match, she ends her days in one of the numerous nunneries. 

Matches are first arranged by go-betweens, after which the 
would-be bridegroom makes a formal offer of the marriage to 
the bride’s parents. Consent, which is ever delayed while a 
form of traditional bargaining goes on, is finally conveyed to 
the bridegroom’s parents, who then make a present ofa large 
quantity of wine to the house of the bride. A general enter- 
tainment is then provided, at which all members of the families 
and their servants attend to dispose of the wine. Kaza, or the 
Tibetan ceremonial scarves, are also presented to all and 
sundry by the bridegroom’s parents. 

This is a preliminary to the conveyance of the dowry, or 
purchase-money, called vin, which is paid over to the bride’s 
father at a repetition of the previous ceremony. 

The bridegroom does not go to fetch his bride, but deputes 
seven or eight male friends to induce her to leave her home. 
They stay with her parents for three days, when, laden with 
clothing, and if fairly well-to-do, accompanied by a pony, a yak, 
a milch-cow, and perhaps some oxen, carrying jewellery, plate, 
and other articles for domestic use, she prepares to join her 
future consort. It is strange to note that the custom of making 
wedding-presents prevails in Tibet, and the bride is loaded with 
all sorts of gifts, according to her rank, by friends and relatives. 
A party of the bridegroom’s friends arrives to escort her to her 
new home, on arrival at which she is seated on a cushion on a 
raised dais, where she remains with the bridegroom until a local 
lama performs a short service, and prayers are said. The two 
chief parties have little to do or say, but the bridegroom’s 
parents make a declaration that henceforth the bride will be 
owned by the bridegroom and his brothers solely—a part of 
the service which will scarcely appeal to the modern Western 
women. Feasting follows, with presents to the bridegroom, 
and this continues for three days, when normal life is resumed 
after the wife has exchanged her bridal wardrobe for dress 
presented her by her husband. Some time later there is a 
renewal of festivities. But these ceremonies are not so 


246 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


elaborate in the case of the common people, though generally 
the main customs are observed. 

While, however, there is one bridegroom, all his brothers 
become husbands of the bride and are proportionately respon- 
sible for her welfare. Marriage takes place at a relatively early 
age—between fifteen and twenty-five years of age—and very 
often the bride is older than her man. 

I was very much amazed to find a marriage taking place at 
this unusual time, shortly before the Tibetan New Year, and 
can only suppose that some urgent private reasons must have 
dictated it. 

Later in the afternoon the soil became much more sandy and 
the line of the little villages ceased. It also became very 
inconvenient to walk, and it was only with the greatest difficulty 
that I could continue to place one foot in front of the other. I 
felt so numbed by illness, weakness, and fatigue, that I could 
think of nothing but one step at a time. Just at this point 
“Paris,” the mule, suddenly collapsed. She sat down and 
refused to move. 

The situation was maddening. ‘Satan’”’ got off his pony, 
and we added some of the mule’s load to the packs the pony 
was catrying; but even so, much was left over, and we our- 
selves could not carry an ounce more. We sat down by the 
roadside in despair trying to think what we should do. While 
we were still arguing the point we were overtaken by four or 
five peasants who were carrying curious spears. They saw 
our sorry plight at a glance and told us that the village of 
Jangme was only three or four miles ahead, and that they 
would, for a small fee, carry ‘“‘ Paris’s’’ discarded packs on 
to that village, where we could stay for the night and try 
to make further arrangements. 

We were very glad to accept their offer and once more neshad 
on. Once her load was off, we managed to get “ Paris’ on 
her feet again, and we even persuaded her to accompany us to 
the village. 

Soon afterward the valley narrowed down to a rocky gorge 
with many twists and turnings, and we were seldom able to see 
more than a few yards away. 

About an hour later, while we were still in the gorge, a 
peculiar incident occurred which I feel it necessary to relate, 


RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 247 


as it so nearly led to my undoing. IJ had pressed on a quarter 
of a mile ahead of the others and was of a sudden compelled to 
micturate. No one was in sight at the time, and I so far 
relaxed my disguise as to perform this duty in European 
fashion, i.e. standing up, instead of following Tibetan custom 
and squatting down. 

Just at this moment a Tibetan official accompanied by two 
retainers, coming riding around the corner and surprised at my 
attitude, immediately stopped and asked me who and what I 
was. J,was surprised to notice how so small a thing as standing 
or stooping should awaken so much suspicion, and in my 
confusion could only stammer out that I was ill and was but a 
poor peasant coming with his master on pilgrimages to Lhasa. 

Fortunately for me, at this moment “ Satan’”’ and Lhaten 
put in an appearance. Lhaten took in the situation at once 
and came to my assistance in a very effective way. He rushed 
up, struck me with his whip, reproved me for dallying on the 
way, and ordered me to go on immediately. I was thus 
allowed to go on while the other two stopped to talk with the 
official. Evidently their tale must have been very effective, 
for in a few moments they came on and waved to me that all 
was well. | 

I was interested to find, many months later, on my return 
to Europe, that Sir Francis Burton had a very similar experi- 
ence on his secret journey to Mecca many years previously, 
though in his case the affair ended more tragically. 

Not long after this the gorge opened out to form a basin, 
and here we found the twin village of Jangt6 and Jangme, or 
Upper and Lower Jang, some thirty miles away from Lhasa. 
We went to a rest-house recommended to us by our spear- 
carrying porters, and soon had our animals unloaded and sat 
down for our much-needed rest. But after our evening meal 
we had to put our heads together and arrange for our transport 
for the next day: a most fateful and important day, for it 
should bring us to our goal—the city of Lhasa. 

But we were at our wits’ end, not knowing what to do as 
regards our transport. 

We went out to inspect the two mules, and what we saw 
was certainly unpromising. ‘‘ Paris ’’ was obviously dropping 
from exhaustion, and the other poor mule, though seeming 


248 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


somewhat better, was distressingly affected by saddle-sores. 
In fact, it was really worse than this. The shoe-blacking and 
the other things which the syce had rubbed on the early sores 
to cure them must have been septic, for the whole back of the 
miserable creature was now swollen with a great abscess. 

No one could look at the poor beast without a feeling of 
pity, but I was surprised to find “‘ Satan ’”’ become really ill 
and so affected that he began to pray very volubly to the gods. 
This feeling of mercy towards animals was all the more 
surprising considering how heartless he had been in regard to 
the sufferings of his fellow-travellers and the merciless way in 
which he had beaten “‘ Diogenes.”’ 

This, however, was only another case, strange but frequent, 
in which a man reveals more feeling for dumb animals than for 
his fellow-man. It seems to be particularly true of Tibet, 
where the killing of a man is treated in many instances as less 
serious than the killing of an animal. 

Sorry as I felt for the animals, I felt even more sorry for 
ourselves owing to the desperate situation in which we were 
placed by their collapse. Here we were only some thirty odd 
miles from Lhasa, and it appeared almost impossible to get 
on. Toadvance without our transport was out of the question ; 
our animals had given in, and I did not have sufficient money 
to buy any more. At this time I had only 300 rupees left, and 
once these were gone I should be utterly helpless, penniless in 
the depths of a strange and savage land. I could not, there- 
fore, afford to buy any other animals, but I told Lhaten to go 
around and try to hire some horses for the last day’s journey. 
He tried in several places, but in vain. Had we been provided 
with ula, or Government passes, the peasants would have been 
forced to provide their animals, but without this pressure they 
refused to part with any of them in spite of tempting offers. 

At last, however, Lhaten met an old farmer, living on the 
outskirts of the village, who seemed open to a proposition. 
He refused to rent his ponies for money, but upon hearing 
that we had two mules to dispose of he agreed to take the 
mules off our hands, thinking that a little rest would put them 
on their feet again, and in return for the mules he agreed to give 
us outright one pony, and to lend us two other ponies as far as 
Lhasa, 


RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 249 


The old farmer thought he was making a very fine bargain, 
because in Tibet a mule is worth nearly twice as much as a 
pony, and here he was getting two mules for one pony, and a 
poor, miserable, forlorn-looking pony at that. 

I, however, was quite satisfied at the turn of affairs, for it 
allowed us to move on the next day, and I learned later that 
“ Paris ’’ died not long afterwards, so that this unpromising 
bargain turned out to be the only successful horse-deal with 
which I was ever connected. 

Before long we were all asleep, but so exhausted by the 
day’s vicissitudes that it was nearly four o’clock before we 
started off on the last day’s journey. 

It was still dark, but we had no fear of losing the road, as 
we had with us the two sons of the old farmer who were coming 
with us to Lhasa to bring back the two ponies which had been 
lent to us. 

For two or three miles our path lay along the sandy banks 
of the river, but after this the river-valley narrowed down 
considerably and we were forced to clamber up and along the 
sides of the rocky hills which flanked the left bank of the river. 
The road was terribly rough and stony, and many huge 
boulders lay in the way, but it was obvious that the roadway 
was artificial, and in parts had been carved out of the hillside 
by human hands. This was the first time I had seen a deliber- 
ate attempt to construct a road. Everywhere else there were 
simply tracks made by the passage of thousands of mules and 
ponies which had passed over the plains and over the passes 
at the most convenient spots. I was surprised that so much 
trouble was taken to build a road along the cliff, as it seemed 
to me that it would have cost less time and trouble to divert 
the Kyi River, which wandered to and fro over the river-bed 
in such a way as to leave a road at the foot of the cliff. 

I was told, however, that the apparently mild, peaceful- 
looking river was subject to great floods, changing it to a 
raging torrent which not only filled the valley, but also dashed 
in waves up the side of the cliff. Even more important was 
the fact that at several places in the sandy banks at the foot 
of the cliffs were quicksands which eagerly devoured everything 
which rested on them. 

It was difficult to believe this until we came to a place where 


250 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


we could see a little donkey which had slid down the sides of 
the hill and was already half sunk in the moist sands, which 
were gradually sucking him under. The peasants were trying 
to drag him out with their leather ropes, but as we passed them 
it seemed a fairly hopeless task. 

For several miles our way lay along this awful rocky road, 
but at length it descended on tothe bed of the valley again, 
and we were able to force our ponies on at a trot. About noon 
we reached the village of Netang, where we stopped for our 
usual breakfast-lunch and rest. | ‘ 

»During our brief stay here I found time to visit the some- 
“what neglected shrine of the great Indian priest Atisa, who 
came to Tibet and inaugurated several important reforms. 
These reforms later brought about the rise of the yellow-hat 
sect, which is now the established Church of Tibet. Atisa died 
here in 1052, and the shrine erected over his remains, even 
though neglected, is still considered one of the most famous 
and holy places of the country. 

Early in the afternoon we started out again on the road, for 
we still had many miles to cover that day. I departed, as usual, 
before the others, thinking they would catch up in a 
few minutes, but something delayed them and I had to go on 
for several miles alone. I felt rather frightened at this, as I 
met several people on the road, and in case of examination I 
wanted someone by me who could do most of the talking. 

Fortunately I seemed to awaken no suspicion in anyone, and 
was only given an occasional hail; nearly all of the people I 
noticed were going towards Lhasa, and very few coming away, 
for the next day was the beginning of an important festival 
season, so that Lhasa was attracting a large number of visitors. 

As I was riding very slowly, giving my servants an oppor- 
tunity to catch up, I was frequently passed by small mounted 
parties on their way to the capital. I noticed that no man of 
apparent opulence rode alone or unescorted. In every case 
there was at least one servant riding before and one behind. 

I overtook and passed a number of travellers on foot. 
Most of these were obviously pilgrims of great poverty—or, if 
they possessed means, they were wise enough to hide it. One 
such pilgrim attracted my especial attention, as he was measur- 
ing his distance along the ground. He would stand up straight, 


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Pee ee Ro ew 


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RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 281 


his hands stretched above him, and then, prostrating himself 
on the ground, would mark the place to which his finger-tips 
extended. He would then step to this point and go through 
the same process. 

When I came near him he stopped and begged me to give 
him some money, saying he was a pilgrim who, in expiation of 
certain past misdeeds, was making pilgrimage in this slow and 
laborious fashion to Lhasa. He added that he had started his 
journey from Shigatsé and had been just a year on the road. 
He had been supported all this time by the donations of pious 
travellers who had passed him. 

I tossed him a small coin and then went on. Such acts of 
devotion are not uncommon in Tibet, though this was the first 
such devotee that I had seen. More usually such prostration- 
walking is confined to the circumambulation of a temple or 
city. His method of travel gave me a humorous reminder of 
the leeches of Sikkim, though in other respects I thought there 
was more in common between these blood-sucking creatures 
and the rapacious monks of Tibet than to this simple, naive 
peasant. | 

The valley had widened out considerably, but immediately 
ahead of me was a steep-rising hill which ran at right-angles to 
the flanking mountains right down to the water’s edge. I 
ascended the shoulder of this hill, thinking I would catch a 
distant glimpse of the Forbidden City from the top, but on 
passing through the shoulder I saw only the great valley ahead 
of me, a valley that gradually widened and then became two 
valleys, one running to the left and the other to the right. 

Of the city of Lhasa there was no sign, but immediately 
ahead, several miles away, there ran a range of mountains, and 
from where I was I could see, on the lower slope of these moun- 
tains, a huge and very impressive group of buildings, rising tier 
by tier in ever-increasing splendour. This, I knew, must be 
the great Drepung Monastery, the largest monastery in Tibet, 
and in fact the largest monastery anywhere in the world. In 
theory it is supposed to have only 7,700 monks as residents, but 
in practice this number is far exceeded, and at present the popu- 
lation of this huge monastery is over 10,000. 

Inside of the city of Lhasa there are, of course, a number of 
temples and monasteries, but none of them of great numerical 


252 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


importance. But in the neighbourhood of Lhasa, apart from 
numerous minor ecclesiastical establishments, there are three 
great monasteries, each with its hordes of fighting monks, its 
colleges, its own hierarchy, and each possessed of enormous 
landed estates scattered all over the country. These three 
monasteries have a great deal to do with the government of the 
country, and even the Dalai Lama and his Cabinet dare not face 
their wrath. 

Of these the largest and most powerful, and at the same time 
the most reactionary and turbulent, is Drepung, the monastery 
which now lay directly ahead. It was, I knew, only four or 
five miles from Lhasa. The second in size is Sera, with 
nominally 5,500 monks (in practice many more), which, 
I was told, lay some two or three miles north of the city ; 
while the last of the trio is Ganden (Gal-ldan), or Paradise, 
Monastery, with nominally only 3,300 monks, which lay some 
twenty-five miles from the city—a day’s journey away. Though 
the smallest from the historical viewpoint, Ganden is the most 
important, as it was founded by Tsong-Kapa, the organizer of 
the ruling yellow-hat order of Tibetan Buddhism. 

I descended to the foot of this spur, and there I found a huge 
bas-relief carving of the seated Buddha of gigantic proportions 
and of considerable artistic worth. Here I decided to wait until 
my servants should arrive, as ahead of me the plain seemed full 
of life, and numerous mounted parties were passing to and fro. 

My little party arrived eventually half an hour later. The 
delay, it seemed, was due to the little donkey bought in 
Shigatsé. So far she had kept up with the other animals with 
apparently no difficulty, but had now begun to lag behind, 
showing every sign of exhaustion, so we stopped for a few 
minutes to give her a rest and an extra feed before pushing on 
again, 

We now had to make quite a long detour to the left, as 
the river had widened out considerably, and much of the 
plain in front of us was marshy and covered with stagnant 
backwaters. | 

Mile after mile we covered always in the direction of Drepung, 
and still no sign of Lhasa. Earlier in the day my servants 
had been very chatty, but now a feeling of desperate fatigue 
had come upon us all and we rode in silence. 


RUNNING THE GAUNTLET 253 


At length we came to an old village surrounded by majestic 
and ancient willow-trees, and here we ran into a swarm of 
beggars, who followed our party for over a mile gesticulating 
and clamouring for alms, for were we not pilgrims coming to 
Lhasa, and was it not heretofore our duty to acquire merit 
through charity ? 

The few karmanga thrown them did not appease the beggars, 
and eventually Lhaten had to drive them back by threatening 
them with his whip. 

The traffic had now increased enormously. From the 
numerous villages scattered over the plain there came small 
mounted parties hastening along the great highway to get into 
Lhasa in time for the important festivities which started that 
evening. Many of these travellers were prosperous ecclesi- 
astics who showed most obviously that the gods favoured and 
the people feared them. Many of the parties looked askance 
at our quaint little caravan dragging itself wearily along the 
road. Several times we were asked whence we came, and on 
occasion, when “‘ Satan ’”’ stated that we came from near the 
Sikkim frontier, he was then asked if he had seen anything of 
the foreigner who was said to be trying to get to Lhasa. A 
brief denial brought the matter to an end; but it showed that 
the rumours about my presence had been widespread and had 
caused considerable excitement. 


CHAPTER XX 
THE GOAL IN SIGHT 


A MILE or two beyond the village we came to a point where 
the river bifurcated. The main Kyi River turned sharply to 
the right, while its large tributary, the Ti River, ran in from 
the left. We had now to cross over this tributary by 
means of a very large and imposing bridge over a hundred 
yards long, with masonry piers and substantial stone 
embankments. | | 

For some time past I had been so torpid with fatigue that 
I had failed to notice the surrounding landscape, but suddenly 
Lhaten called out to me to look to the right. Doing so I 
felt a great and sudden thrill. In the distance, some eight 
or nine miles away, I could see the Potala, the great 
palace of the Dalai Lama, the god-priest of the Tibetan 
people, and I knew that on the other side of the hill 
on which the palace was perched lay Lhasa, the abode of 
the gods. 

The goal was at length in sight, and at last I knew that the 
long, weary journey, the exposure, the privation, the illness, 
the constant danger and fear of detection, had not been entirely 
in vain. 

We halted for some minutes to gaze at our objective, and then 
pressed on, as we still had several miles to cover over a roadway 
teeming with people, for the most part peasants bringing 
grain, butter, and yak-dung into the city. Ponies, mules, 
and donkeys were in abundance, many of them having jingling 
bells around their necks. They progressed at a comfortable 
rate, but so fatigued was our little caravan that most of them 
overtook and passed us. 


254 


THE GOAL IN SIGHT 255 


At last we came to the foot of the hills which I had seen 
several hours earlier, and then we turned to the right to follow 
the Kyi Valley up to Lhasa, which always remained in view 
but which still seemed incredibly far away. 

I was utterly exhausted, but now that the goal was in sight 
I hoped that we could complete our journey without further 
incident. But just when we had passed under the ruins of 
the old Dongkar Castle and had the great Drepung Monastery 
towering above us, a few hundred yards up the slope of 
the mountain the little donkey suddenly and mysteriously 
collapsed. 

Lhaten and I jumped off our ponies and helped the syce lift 
the donkey on her feet and readjust her load, and we then 
made desperate attempts to get her on the move again. It 
was in vain. The incident caused quite a crowd to collect, 
and amongst the crowd I could see many of the Drepung 
monks, some of whom jeered and others shouted out advice 
to us. 

Drepung is well known as the chief centre of the anti-foreign 
agitation, and many of its monks are fierce brawlers who back 
their opinions by action, so I became very much embarrassed 
at the attention which we were receiving. ‘“‘ Satan ’’ became 
even more nervous and left us entirely in the lurch; he rode 
on ahead, not wishing to seem associated with us in case of 
exciting developments. 

In the end we took off the donkey’s load and added it to the 
ponies on which we were riding, but I left the syce and “ Dio- 
genes’ behind with orders to try and bring the donkey on 
later, as I thought that in Lhasa we might possibly be able to 
sell her for something. 

While the mob were still interested in the syce’s struggles 
with the donkey, Lhaten and I slipped on our ponies and, 
accompanied by our two Changmé guides, continued on our 
way. 

Half a mile farther on we found “ Satan ”’ hiding behind a 
little adobe hut. Seeing that we were alone and unmolested, 
he deigned to come out and rejoin the party. It was neither 
the time nor the place to say anything, but I was thoroughly 
disgusted with the rascal’s cowardice in leaving us in the 
jurch. 


256 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


We had left the imposing mass of Drepung behind us, and 
had now only three miles or so farther to go. Now onwards 
the road was dotted with small groups of Drepung monks 
making their way back to their monastery after spending the 
day in the city. 

Our goal loomed up very clearly before us, silhouetted against 
the evening sky. The city itself was still invisible, and what 
we saw was two hills surmounted by buildings. The smaller 
and more pointed hill on the right is called the Chakpo-ri, or 
the Iron Mountain, and the quaint square tower-like building 
on the right was the Lama College of Medicine. On the hill 
to the left, larger but more rounded, was the Potala Palace. 
As yet we could only glimpse the gilded spires of the roof of 
this building, as the major portion of the palace is built on the 
slope of the farther side of the hill. The main city, I knew, 
lay about a mile beyond the two hills, but I wanted, if 
possible, to halt that evening at the little village of 
Potala-shol, which lies just at the foot of the palace on the 
other side of the hill. 

In order to get there we had to pass through the narrow 
opening between the two hills. So narrow, indeed, was the 
opening that a huge chorten, or shrine, had been placed over 
it, and we had to pass along the tiny roadway running 
through the shrine. 

The roadway was but a gully, and we had to dismount 
and pass through in single file. But once through, what 
a sight lay before our eyes! Before us ran a long and 
magnificent avenue leading to the city of Lhasa itself, the 
chief buildings of which could be seen looming up in the 
distance. Immediately on our left we were face to face 
with the gigantic structure of the Potala Palace, which 
covered the whole of the hill. 

Though we had seen the rear of the palace many miles back, 
this sudden appearance of the main building was most impres- 
sive, and I halted almost dumbfounded by its splendour. It 
is a building wrought partly in stone and partly in sun-dried 
and whitewashed brick. Nine hundred feet in length and 
more than 70 feet higher than the golden cross of St. Paul’s 
Cathedral in London, it possesses a simplicity but stateliness 
of style that cannot but impress even the most sophisticated. 


vweuy eyed ey} jo soxjeg su 
VIVLOd HHL ‘VSVH1I 


ee 


mee 


44042400 aria,” 
Be isasiiaaa ; 


Chibbasitaa | 





mt THE GOAL IN SIGHT 257 


\ The upper centre part of the building was red, the 
remainder white. : 
\ In the plain at the foot of the hill are numerous outhouses 
bdlonging to the palace used as stables, storehouses, and 
thé residences of minor Court officials, and adjoining these, 
though outside an encircling wall, are several private build- 
ings—tresidences and shops. 

A number of the residences also serve as rest-houses for 
travellers ; to these we directed our attention. But here we 
met with'’a fresh difficulty. Every one of these was already 
crowded ; not only were the common-rooms literally crammed 
with people, but large numbers had bivouacked in the open 
courtyards. 

Largely by accident, we had arrived at Lhasa at the most holy 
and important time of the year. That evening (February 15) 
was the last day of the Tibetan year, and the next day (Feb- 
ruary 16) was the Tibetan New Year, and the opening day 
of the New Year festivities which were to last three weeks. 
So many imposing pageants and ceremonies are held during 
this time that it is small wonder that thousands of devout 
pilgrims crowded into the capital to gaze in awe and wonder. 
In addition, the city was overrun by monks from the three great 
monasteries of Drepung, Sera, and Ganden, and other ecclesi- 
astical centres, many of whom were to take an active part in 
the religious celebrations which attend the beginning of the 
year. 

It is estimated that, notwithstanding its holiness and 
importance, the population of Lhasa at ordinary times is only 
some twenty thousand (this does not include, of course, the 
monks of the three outlying monasteries), but at New Year 
time the population becomes more than five times as great, and 
certainly exceeds one hundred thousand. 

In spite of this fact, I had thought it would be possible to 
Squeeze in at some odd corner, but I was now to realize that it 
was impossible to secure a place at any price where we could lay 
our heads for the night. Every rest-house in the village was 
tried in vain, and the rest-house keepers became abusive when 
we attempted to push our claim for space. 

The last rest-house we tried furnished us an additional excite- 
ment in the form of the largest dog I have ever seen. He was 

Re 


258 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


unlike most Tibetan dogs, and looked like an overgrown St. _ 
Bernard. When Lhaten started to expostulate with the) 
nemo of the house and demand that at least we be allowed 
to sleep in the courtyard, the nemo’s only reply was to let 
loose the great dog, who at once snarled and jumped | ‘to 
the attack. 

The Tibetans are terrified of dogs, and all in sight acaibetelt 
immediately, while despite our utter exhaustion my little party 
managed to make its way out of the courtyard in really record 
time. 

As it was now quite obvious that there was no place 
for us anywhere in the Potala-shol, we determined to go ~ 
and try our luck in the city of Lhasa itself, a mile or so 
farther on. 

‘The syce and ‘‘ Diogenes,”’ who had been left behind with the 
donkey, had not yet caught us up, and we waited several 
minutes for them to arrive, but in the end we decided to push 
on without them, as it was rapidly growing dark and it was 
imperative that we get some shelter for the whole party as 
soon as possible. So we set off down the long avenue leading to 
the city. 

Although, of course, unpaved, the avenue was remarkably 
pleasant, not only:on account of the breadth and evenness of 
the road, but also on account of the parklike pleasure-gardens 
which lay on either side of it. These pleasure-gardens were 
private property, partly belonging to the Dalai Lama, and 
partly owned by other aristocratic families, and were separated 
from the road by high, well-constructed adobe walls. The 
gardens were filled with trees-—willows mostly—and though it 
was winter and the trees bare and black, after the many miles 
of lifeless, plantless plains, these trees, which reared their 
heads high over the walls, lent to the great avenue a remarkable 
sense of beauty and grace. 

We met many people on the avenue who were obviously 
filled with the holiday spirit. Amongst the crowd was a group 
of young officials who, relieved from their ordinary pomp, were 
obviously out for a gay time and made many ribald jests at the 
expense of the various little groups of pilgrims making their 
way to the city. 

One of them, keener-eyed than the rest, nudged his com- 


THE GOAL IN SIGHT 259 


panion and, pointing me out, I heard him remark that I looked 
remarkably like a foreigner, but his friend, seeing my paar 
shabby clothes, my woebegone appearance and general! air, yor 
humility (caused, I am ashamed to say, by a lively{sense. ‘of 
fright), laughed at him and remarked that I was obviously only 
a misbegotten servant of a lousy Sikkimese. A rather pretty 
peasant-girl hove in sight just at this time, and the attention of 
the young sparks was attracted elsewhere, and I once more 
passed on in safety. 

A little later the road turned to the right, and we soon came 
to a canal which was formerly the main stream of the Kyi River, 
but which is now only a stagnant backwater. This stream was 
crossed by a famous bridge, the Yutok-sampa, or Turquoise 
Bridge, a curious structure which has walls and a roof, 
making it look like a long corridor. Here there was 
supposed to be a guard to examine all travellers seeking 
entrance to the city, but to my delight we passed over 
unnoticed. The city proper began some two or three 
hundred yards farther on, and was entered through a low 
Chinese archway. 

It was now too dark to see much of the city as we passed 
through. We had, moreover, only one object in view—a 
shelter of some sort for the night. We were destined, however, 
to meet the same disheartening reception that we had received 
at Potala-shol. 

Our two guides claimed to know all the rest-houses in the 
city, and following them we went from courtyard to courtyard. 
Many of these courtyards housed as many as fifteen or twenty 
families, and every family was approached in our desperate 
search for a room or a share in a room. In each case we were 
given the same answer: every space was already overcrowded. 
Over an hour was spent in wandering from place to place, and 
I began to fear that we should have to spend our first night in 
Lhasa sleeping out in the open streets. To make matters 
worse, these streets were now crowded with drunken brawlers 
in honour of the occasion. 

Men were shouting long songs in praise of avak, and several 
laid hands on some of the local ladies, who seemed none too 
unwilling, and more than once a fight broke out between 
various groups of revellers. 


260 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


I was in great fear of detection, after our experience a little 
earlier, and I knew that, if detected, I should be seriously 
injured, if not actually murdered, by the irresponsible mob, so / 
I determined to make one more desperate effort to get safely 
off the streets. / 

We were now in the very heart of the city, standing in the 
great central market-place, and I noticed to the left of usa 
large and rather imposing three-story building. We were told 
by the guides that this building was the property of the 
Government, and was divided up into a number of small 
dwellings (we should call these apartments, or flats) and used 
by some of the important Lhasa officials. 

Such people were not, I knew, in the habit of taking in 
travellers, but I sent ‘‘ Satan’’ and Lhaten inside to tell 
someone that we were a small party of devout Sikkimese 
pilgrims just arrived and without lodgings, and to implore 
permission to make use of some small room for the night. 

The pair were gone some twenty minutes, while I was left 
alone to look after the animals and to try to keep as much as 
possible in the darkness. 

Eventually my two servants returned, announcing success. 
We were to be granted lodgings for the night, though we should 
have to move on the next day. Wearily I drove our animals 
into the great courtyard of the house. As was to be expected, 
we found stable space on the ground floor, and once the ponies 
had been attended to we prepared to ascend the two flights of 
stairs leading to the apartments of our host. But I had now 
reached the end of my tether. Nervous excitement had got 
me up so far, but by this time I was so weak from illness and 
fatigue that I could not climb the quaint ladder-like staircase, 
and had to be carried up by my servants. 

We came to the apartment of the man who had granted us 
room, and in the tiny little out-room I was dumped down. 
This little room was obviously used chiefly as a passage, a 
scullery, and as a storeroom for avgol—the yak-dung fuel—but 
I was more than delighted to be able to occupy even this. 

So weary was I that I immediately fell asleep, but a little 
later I was awakened by Lhaten, who brought food, and the 
best food I had had for many a day. I inquired from Lhaten 
whether anything more had been seen of the syce or “ Diogenes,” 


THE GOAL IN SIGHT 261 


whom we had left behind many hours earlier, and found that 
“Satan ”’ had been out looking for them in vain. They were 
lost in the crowd. We were a little worried by this, but I 
thought that with daylight the next day we could possibly 
find them. 


CHAPTER XXI 
EXPOSED ! 


IN the meantime I was, concerned with a much more 
important matter. Our host had not deigned even to come 
out and look at us! Heremained in his inner room, but the 
small pet dog he possessed, attracted by the smell of food, 
came out to inspect us, and immediately began to cause trouble. 
The sense of smell must have told him that I was different from 
the others, for he started barking very vigorously at me, and 
at me alone. We tried desperately to silence him, but without 
avail. His yapping began to attract attention, and I feared 
that in this way I should be discovered. It seemed very 
curious that I should be in Tibet all this time, undergoing 
frequent examinations, and never be discovered, and here on 
our first night in Lhasa to be suspected, and by a pet dog! 

At this exciting crisis I quickly made up my mind, somewhat 
against the call of reason, to reveal myself. In the first place 
I thought it better to reveal myself voluntarily than to be 
found out by others, and secondly, I had always had it in the 
back of my mind to reveal myself when I got to Lhasa. This 
was partly out of a silly boyish feeling of braggadocio, to show 
the Lhasa Government that I had been able to get there in 
spite of their efforts to keep me out. I was also afraid, if I 
came back to India and told anyone that I had gone to and 
come back from Lhasa in disguise, that my tale would not be 
believed, so that by revealing myself I should have definite 
proof that I had been successful in my undertaking. 

Jf I were to reveal myself, I knew that it must be to the 
upper and more responsible officials that I should do so. Fear 
of the British Government would probably keep them from 
violent action, so that at least my life would be safe, for I 

262 


EXPOSED ! 263 


knew that if I were discovered by the irresponsible mob I 
should have very short shrift. 

As very unusual circumstances had brought me to the very 
home of officialdom, I decided to use our host as the channel 
of communication to announce my presence to the Dalai Lama. 
Consequently, while the little dog was still barking, and to the 
consternation of “‘ Satan ’’ and Lhaten, who thought I was out 
of my mind, I doffed as much of my disguise as was possible 
at a minute’s notice, and, making my way into the inner 
rooms, I eventually found myself in the presence of my host, 
and to him I immediately announced my identity. 

I have never seen so surprised and astonished a person ! 
He gazed at me for several minutes in blank and speechless 
bewilderment, but when he recovered himself sufficiently to 
speak he managed to give me an even greater surprise, for I 
discovered that the man who had been kind enough to give 
us lodgings, after we had been refused admission at at least 
fifty other places, was no other than Sonam, the official who 
had charge of the new communication system between Tibet 
and India and the intervening points. It was through him that 
the news had come that I had entered Tibet, and was probably 
in disguise, and it was through him that the orders had gone 
out that a special search should be made for me in order that 
I might be stopped and turned back. 

What wild freaks the goddess Chance plays upon us at times ! 
It seemed hardly credible—this dramatic meeting—and yet 
here we were facing one another. 

At first I thought I had walked right straight into the lion’s 
den, and had revealed myself to the person who was most 
hostile, but I soon discovered that things were more favourable. 
Sonam was a Lepcha, born in Sikkim. He had been partially 
educated in Kalimpong and had seen a good many Englishmen 
and had been very much impressed by the white man’s prestige. 
The Lhasa Government had brought him to Lhasa on account 
of his knowledge of the “‘ foreign devils,’’ and hence able to help 
the Lhasa officials in their attempts to improve their means 
of communication. 

After the shock and surprise of the first meeting had passed 
away, Sonam and I sat down to a long and serious talk as to 
what was to become of me during the next few days. He 


264 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


himself was very friendly, and promised to do everything to 
help me out, but he warned me that I was likely to have a very 
troublous and dangerous time ahead, as I had arrived in 
Lhasa just at New Year time, when the fanaticism of the general 
populace was at its greatest height. 

After some discussion, we decided that the best plan for the 
immediate future was to inform the Dalai Lama privately the 
next day of my arrival, and then to wait for further develop- 
ments. 

Nothing could be done until morning, but Sonam was 
determined to make my first evening in Lhasa a pleasant one. 
I was much surprised to see the great trouble he took to make 
me comfortable. 

He insisted upon making me change my quarters and occupy 
his own private room, while he moved out to the room next 
door, occupied by other members of his family. I was thus, for 
the first time in many weeks, furnished with comfortable and 
private sleeping-quarters. 

Although I had already eaten the simple food Lhaten had 
prepared, Sonam gave numerous sharp orders to his servants, 
and a little midnight supper was prepared. The food was not 
at all in Tibetan style: some dishes were Indian and some 
Chinese. This meant that the food was cooked, and much more 
palatable than any I had had for a long time, and I sat down 
to the banquet with a relish, grossly overeating, considering 
how ill I was. 

Chang and arak, the native beer and brandy, followed as a 
matter of course. Considering the perils which were to over- 
hang me the next few days, I thought it wise to emphasize my 
priestly rank and refuse these, but Sonam overcame these 
scruples, saying that even the high-priests of Lhasa forgot their 
duties at New Year time and joined in the liquid rejoicing. 
Having thus started on the way to perdition, how easy it was 
to follow in it ! 

During his stay in Kalimpong, Sonam had acquired a taste for 
cigarettes—a taste which he had found it impossible to over- 
come in spite of the terrible anathema against tobacco on the 
part of the Government. The sale or use of cigarettes was 
particularly prohibited by the Dalai Lama, but, as with all 
prohibitory laws, there was the usual “ bootlegging.”’ Sonam 


EXPOSED ! 268 


had managed to smuggle in a supply which he kept carefully 
hidden and locked away, for in Tibet drinking is only a vice, 
while smoking is a crime. 

As I was not a Tibetan, Sonam relied upon my broad-minded- 
ness in the matter, and getting out his secret store of cheap, 
wretched Indian cigarettes, he offered some to me. It was the 
supreme symbol of the confidence he placed in me. I had not 
smoked anything since entering Tibet. At first the craving 
for tobacco had been very terrible, but it had subsided and I had 
now almost lost the desire for it, but as I knew so much of my 
future safety in Lhasa lay in keeping Sonam’s friendship, I did 
not dare offend him by refusing, and so went the whole gamut 
of wickedness by lighting up with him. Wicked cigarettes they 
were, filled with raw, acrid, coarse tobacco—but how soothing 
they were to the soul! 

After our secret smoke was ended I went out to see how my 
servants were faring. This also gave me a chance to see some- 
thing of Sonam’s abode and the way in which Tibetan officials 
live. 

On one point Lhasa is curiously modern. Only the very 
wealthiest families can afford to have a whole house to them- 
selves. The poorer families, even those with good official ranks, 
are forced to content themselves with what are called flats in 
England, or apartments in America—a suite of five or six rooms 
inside one of the great Lhasa houses. 

Sonam, having only recently come to Lhasa, and with but 
a small family, was forced to content himself with only four 
rooms. This little flat was quite self-contained, and had 
only one door connecting it with the outside world, a door 
leading from the out-room on to the verandah which 
encircled the enclosed courtyard around which the house. 
was built. 

Of the four rooms, one was the little out-room, allotted to my 
servants, where fuel was stored, and except as a passage was 
very little used. Opening out of it on one side was the kitchen, 
where food was prepared, and where Sonam’s servants also 
slept : it also served as a food-larder. On the other side of the 
out-room was a door leading into the large common-room. 
This served as the family living-room, reception-room, dining- 
room, and bedroom, for here slept Sonam’s family, which 


266 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


consisted of Sonam’s brother, his wife, and a female cousin of 
his wife who was there on a visit. 

On the other side of this common-room was the inner private 
room, used by Sonam himself. This was the room which 
Sonam had given to me while he went to the next room—the 
common-room, where he joined the other members of the 
family. 

It was extremely kind of him to treat me in this way, though 
it was obvious that prudence had something to do with the 
change of rooms, as we had decided it was better for me to keep 
my presence in Lhasa a great secret from the general public 
until it could be seen what attitude the Dalai Lama and his 
ministers would assume towards me. As long as I stayed in the 
inner room I should run no risk of discovery, as it was entirely 
to one side, and ordinary visitors could come to and leave the 
common-room without ever suspecting that anyone was in the 
little room beyond. 

In accordance with our plan, I gave my servants, and Sonam 
gave his servants, very strict instructions that nothing was to 
be said to anyone as to my arrival. Sonam gave such a vivid 
description of what was likely to happen to the whole household 
in case the secret was betrayed that I felt pretty sure no tongue- 
wagging would take place, at least for the next few days. 

After this, the sudden excitement being over, I retired to my 
room for the night. There was still the terrible uncertainty of 
what the next few days would bring forth, as few of the other 
officials were as modernly-minded as Sonam, but after crawling 
inside my blankets I was soon fast asleep, well content to let 
the morrow look after itself. 

Early the next morning I was awake again. Lhaten came 
in with a cup of tea, and I then arranged for him to go out 
with “ Satan ’”’ to the markets and buy provisions for the next 
few days, for even though I was housed in Sonam’s flat, it was, 
of course, understood that, in accordance with Tibetan custom, 
my little party made its own housekeeping arrangements. It 
was further understood that my two servants, while they were 
out, were to keep a sharp look-out for the syce and “ Diogenes,” 
whom we had lost the previous evening. I was much afraid 
of what might happen to them, as I knew that neither one had 
any money on his person when we parted from them. 


EXPOSED | 267 


After the servants had gone I determined to see what I could 
of Lhasa. It was too dangerous to attempt to go through the 
streets, and in any case I felt too ill even to attempt a sight- 
seeing tour, but with Sonam’s help I got up on top of the roof 
of the house, and from there commanded a panoramic view 
of the whole city. It will be remembered that roofs in Tibet 
are perfectly flat, so that we were able to walk around in perfect 
safety, gazing at different parts of the city. The outer parapets 
of the roof rendered me invisible from the street, so that I had 
an ideal place from which to spy on all that was worth seeing, 
particularly as the house lay right in the heart of the city, 
and was the highest building anywhere in the city proper. 

To the west lay the Turquoise Bridge, and beyond it the 
pleasure-groves stretched up to the two hills dominated by the 
Medical College and the Potala. Although a mile away, the 
Potala seemed to lose none of its magnificent splendour, and 
the rays of the early-morning sun falling on it gave it an 
altogether fitting golden glow. 

The Potala hill hid from view the Drepung Monastery which 
lay beyond, but some two or three miles to the north, at the 
foot of the same range of hills—a range which runs almost due 
east and west—lay Sera, the second of the three great monas- 
teries. Drepung wields the largest political power, but the 
monks of Sera are particularly noted for the excellence of their 
liturgical knowledge. To have a Sera monk lead a religious 
service is a great honour, and in a country where religious 
services are believed to control the forces of the universe such 
a reputation is invaluable. To anyone acquainted with great 
ecclesiastical organizations it will not be surprising to know 
that Sera and Drepung are deadly rivals, and are constantly 
trying to encroach on one another’s prerogatives. To the east 
the great Lhasa Plain continued for some six miles before it 
was once more closed in by the mountains. Occasional manor- 
houses dotted the plain, and through it ran the great highway 
leading to Ganden, the last of the three great monasteries, and 
far beyond that to distant China and Mongolia. Entrance to 
Tibet from China, or on the part of the Chinese, is now 
prohibited, but the Mongolians are permitted to come on 
pilgrimage to Lhasa, and even as I looked I could see two or 
three caravans of pious Mongols picking their way over the 


268 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


plain. Mongolian caravans are always recognizable, as they 
contain the great Mongolian two-humped camels; in Tibet 
itself camels are not used. 

To the south ran the Kyi River, the River of Felicity, well 
named, for its waters make the Lhasa Plain so fertile. On 
the other side of the river the plain continued for another mile 
or two until it gave way to the southern range of east-and-west 
running hills. 

Immediately around me lay the city of Lhasa itself, some 
half a mile square. In the old days it was surrounded by a 
wall, in true medizval fashion, but the wall has now been 
destroyed, though small portions of it remain and can still be 
seen. 

Lhasa consists of a cluster of the usual Tibetan type of houses 
made of sun-dried brick and whitewashed, with flat roofs, and 
generally with a courtyard formation, most of them two stories 
high, though three-story buildings are not uncommon. 

Here and there a building of more imposing style or propor 
tions would thrust itself upon the eye. Needless to say, all 
such buildings were religious foundations. A little to the 
north was Ramoché, unusual because it is a temple, and not 
a monastery, the oldest temple in Tibet, and famous as an 
historic mausoleum. In holiness it ranks second only to the 
chokang, or cathedral, of which more will be said hereafter. 

A little to the west of Ramoché was Tsomoling, and still 
farther to the west, near the Turquoise Bridge, was Tengyeling. 
Tengyeling and Tsomoling are two of the four so-called royal 
monasteries of Lhasa. The third, Kunduling, lies beyond the 
Medical College hill, while the fourth is situated on the southern 
side of the Kyi River. 

These four monasteries have an interesting and unique 
position. They are enormously wealthy, having landed estates 
in all parts of Tibet, but they have remained very exclusive 
establishments. While Sera, Drepung, and Ganden have 
grown steadily in numbers, these four lings have limited the 
number of their members, and none of them has more 
than five hundred monks, all of them picked men, whose 
daily routine is more than usually elaborate and strict. The 
abbot of each of these monasteries is a reincarnating embodi- 
ment of some Tibetan deity, and in times past these abbots 


IY 247 UO JOOYDS Jeopaw 343 ‘Zfa7 ay7 uC 
:]BAPISYIWO Jy} ‘a4zuao ay, UT :¥leyOd BUY ‘7Ysit ay? UQ :UZaS aq UKD PUNOUsyoN 9y} UT 


VSVHI NI SLOqdaYLS NIVW AHL AO ANO 








EXPOSED |! 269 


had a virtual monopoly of the post of regent, or de facto king, 
Of the country during the minority of the Dalai Lama. As the 
present Dalai Lama was the first in many generations to survive 
his coming-of-age, it can be seen that the abbots of these four 
privileged and aristocratic monasteries had a great deal to say 
in the government of the country. During the long reign of 
the present Dalai Lama, who is more than able to rule without 
the aid of a regent, these ancient establishments have lost much 
of their power. 

The largest and most prosperous-looking monastery in the 
city was none of these four royal lings, but the Muru Gompa, 
which lay a little to the north-east of where I was standing ; 
yet undoubtedly the chief attraction of Lhasa was not any one 
of the buildings previously mentioned, but the great _chokang, 
or cathedral, which lay immediately before me, just to the 
south, on the other side of the market-place. 

This cathedral is the holy of holies for all Tibetans 
and Mongolians, the St. Peter’s of Tibetan Buddhism, 
to which come thousands of pilgrims every year, doubly 
interesting, moreover, because it is the centre, not only of 
Tibetan religion, but also of Tibetan government, for in one 
wing of this great building are the offices of the Lénchen, or 
Prime Minister, the Kashak, or Cabinet, and the Tsongdu, or 
National Assembly. 

In spite of its fame and importance, the chokang is not nearly 
so marvellous in its size or its architectural beauty as the Potala, 
the palace of the sovereign. This is partly due to the fact that 
a number of lesser buildings are built around the chokang, so 
that one can scarcely see anything of the chokang itself except 
the great entrance-gate, which is on the west side, and its 
glittering spires, or gyefi, which shoot high above all the 
surrounding buildings, rising as points from the rather pic- 
turesque Chinese type of roof. These spires, or cones, are 
made of brass and heavily gilded, but it is said that the prin- 
cipal spire is made of pure gold. 

The cathedral, with all its surrounding buildings, some 
of which are official structures, and others, particularly at 
the east end, private dwellings, constitutes a great square—the 
central square, or block of buildings. Running around this 
block is the principal street of Lhasa, called the Parkor-ling, or 


270 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the Inner Circle. The practice of circumambulating, or walkin, 
around, a sacred building, is held in high regard in Tibet ist 
method of acquiring merit, and it is the custom for every 
pilgrim who comes to Lhasa to make the circuit twice daily, 
once in the morning and once in the evening, always, of course, 
from left to right. 

In addition to being the main thoroughfare of Lhasa, this 
Inner Circle is broad enough to permit a number of stalls to be 
placed in it, so that it also constitutes the great market-place 
of the capital. That part of the avenue which ran before 
the house in which I was staying was particularly open and 
broad, and had, therefore, developed into the chief centre of 
stall-marketing. For this reason the house itself was called 
Trom-si-Kang, or the Market-seeing Mansion. 

Sonam told me that all the great pageants and processions 
invariably went around this Inner Circle, frequently starting 
from the place immediately below. I was overjoyed to hear 
this, as it meant that I could see everything of importance 
which happened without leaving the place where I was 
staying. 

Sonam and I stayed for some time on the roof—he pointing 
out and explaining the principal points of interest—but at 
length he said that he must go down in order to get into 
communication with the Dalai Lama and inform him of my 
arrival. This being New Year’s Day for the Tibetans, the 
Dalai Lama was holding a great levee, or audience, at the 
Potala, attended by the principal officials, so that it was going 
to be difficult to get private access to him; but Sonam was 
going to arrange that he should be handed a little note giving 
him the necessary information. 

I followed him downstairs, for I still felt very ill and weak, 
and wanted to rest as much as possible, so as to secure a supply 
of strength with which to face any new eventuality. 

Sonam went out to his office while I returned to the little flat. 
Here I was delighted to find not only that Lhaten had returned, 
but also that he had found the syce and “ Diogenes ”’ and had 
brought them home. 

They had had a very uncomfortable time. The donkey had 
eventually died and, leaving the carcase behind, they had come 
on to the city, but were, of course, unable to find any trace of 


EXPOSED ! 271 


us, and had been afraid to make too many inquiries lest it might 
awaken suspicion regarding my identity. Having no money 
they had been forced to sleep out in the streets, but by begging 
they had secured a little food. They were wandering around 
the Inner Circle, the centre of Lhasa life, when they were found 
by Lhaten. 

Once back in my own room I managed to draw the cushions 
which formed my bed over to the window which looked out over 
the market-place below. In this way I was able to rest and at 
the same time observe many interesting aspects of Lhasa life. 
Incidentally nearly all the windows in the Trom-si-Kang were 
provided with glass panes which had been brought from India. 
This was rather unusual even for Lhasa, for in most cases cloth 
with rather wide meshes, or occasionally glazed paper, is nailed 
to the window-frame. In such cases there is usually a wooden 
shutter behind, which could be closed at night and so keep out 
the cold. 

The whole morning the market-place was full of revellers of 
both sexes and from every part of Tibet. These were singing, 
shouting, and dancing. The dancing interested me particu- 
larly, as it was unlike anything I had seen before. Three or four 
women would gather and form a circle. Each woman had in 
her hand a leather strap strung with little bells, such as are 
hung on the necks of ponies in Tibet when a noble rides forth. 
The women would then begin to sing and stamp their feet 
rhythmically, at the same time jangling the bells which they 
held in their hands. Gradually numbers of men—strangers— 
would gather around, join in the song, and stamp their feet in 
the same rhythmic fashion. Verse after verse would be sung, 
and the stamping would go on for many minutes until the 
singers were out of breath or one of the women, weary and 
jostled from behind, would fall down. Then the party would 
break up, only however, in most cases, to form again a few yards 
farther to the right, once breath and voice had been recovered. 
It was obvious that these parties were gradually making their 
way around the Inner Circle—performing the prescribed 
circumambulation of the cathedral square. It was quaint to 
see them performing this holy rite in such an exceedingly jovial 
fashion. 

Many of the revellers, grown men as well as children, amused 


276 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


themselves by firing off squibs, or fire-crackers, some of them 
tiny things and some of gigantic proportions. 

The shortness of the previous night’s repose made me feel 
very sleepy, and I was just dozing off when the whole house 
was shaken by a tremendous explosion, which brought me to 
my feet in an instant. As this took place after Sonam had 
gone forth to announce my arrival, I thought at first that a 
bomb had been placed underneath my window, but on looking 
forth I saw that by accident the whole fireworks-stall had 
exploded, stunning everyone in the vicinity. Four persons were 
were killed and five more were seriously injured. 

A large crowd gathered around the heap of victims. (In 
this respect the world is the same all the world over.) But no 
one seemed inclined to lend a helping hand, and everyone was 
left to look after himself. This meant that the dead and 
seriously wounded were let lay on the ground for really an 
extraordinary time, until friends or relatives could learn of the 
mishap and come and drag the bodies of the victims away. 

There was, of course, no hospital ambulance—for there is 
neither ambulance nor hospital in Lhasa, nor is there any kind 
of provision for first-aid to the injured. When the victims 
were eventually taken away, they were carried back to their 
own homes, and some monk—possibly, but not necessarily, 
a monk from the Medical College—was invited in to perform 
his ritual either for the recovery of the patient, or, if he 
were dead, for the safe passage of his soul into a favourable 
reincarnation. 

Even more surprising was the lack of policemen in Lhasa, 
or of other officials to take’their place. This is one of the chief 
reasons for the lawlessness of the city. Most of the city 
officials were out on holiday, but eventually a woebegone 
looking person, wearing official dress and armed with a whip, 
arrived on the scene and ordered some scavengers to clear up 
the debris. } 

Fire-crackers are much enjoyed by the Tibetan peasants. 
They were probably brought to Tibet from China, but owing to 
the faulty method of manufacture, such accidents, I was told, 
are by no means infrequent, and the Dalai Lama is trying to 
abolish the sale and use of all such articles. But it is obvious 
that illicit dealing in Tibet has been brought to a fine art, for 


EXPOSED! 273 


. I had seen the squibs sold in the open market-place. The 
sstory was, however, destined to have an interesting sequel. 

Apart from illicit sale, fire-crackers are still officially recog- 
nized and used in one connection. Every night at half-past 
eight curfew is sounded in Lhasa, but not by means of a curfew 
bell. Instead, a giant squib is let off at each one of the four 
corners of the Inner Circle, as a warning that thereafter every- 
one should stay indoors. 

The curfew law is largely meant as a protection for innocent 
and respectable persons. There is no attempt made to illumi- 
nate the dark, winding streets of Lhasa, which are full of men 
who are beggars by day and highwaymen at night, and the 
Government finds it cheaper to order the people to stay indoors 
at night than to install illumination or to organize a proper 
police force. | 

The excitement created by the explosion had hardly died 
down before Sonam returned. He told me that he had 
managed to have a note, announcing my arrival, handed to 
the Dalai Lama in the midst of his audience, but that at the 
time the Dalai Lama had merely read it, and had said nothing 
to anyone around him regarding the matter ; he had exhibited 
no symptoms of either surprise, anger, or excitement, but this 
was only to be expected from an experienced Oriental potentate. 

Further developments were bound to come in due course, 
and there was now nothing for me to do except passively await 
them. 


CHAPTER XXII 
THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 


It was certainly very trying to be compelled to remain in 
idleness while one’s whole destiny was being decided by the 
whim of other people. About two o’clock, however, two 
messengers arrived from Tsarong Shapé, the Commander-in- 
Chief of the Army and senior Secretary of State, with orders 
that I come and pay him a secret visit. 

Tsarong is the personal friend and favourite minister of the 
Dalai Lama, and it seems that shortly after receiving Sonam’s 
note, the Dalai Lama had spoken briefly to Tsarong, telling 
him to see me secretly and find out what sort of a person I was. 
It was in accordance with these instructions that Tsarong sent 
for me as soon as he returned from the Potala to his private 
palace. 

As this was a first, and therefore important, interview, from 
the point of view of creating a good impression, I thought it 
better to attempt to win favour by putting on the lama or 
priest robes I had been given by the temple in Darjeeling, and 
which I was entitled to wear, but I was careful to wrap my 
head up in one of the thick Tibetan shawls so that people 
should not see too much of my face as I passed through the 
streets. 

Attended by all of my servants (such is etiquette in Tibet, 
where a gentleman will never think of paying a formal call 
without being attended by at least two or three servants), and 
following the messengers whom Tsarong had sent, I set out for 
this high official’s palace. 

Tsarong’s residence was really quite near Sonam’s house, 
lying but just beyond the great central block of buildings 
formed by the cathedral and its satellite edifices. This meant 


274 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 275 


- we had to go along the Inner Circle, the.great market roadway 
which runs around this group of buildings. Along this road 
we passed in the prescribed left-to-right fashion, always keeping 
the central group of buildings on our right. At the two eastern 
corners of the Inner Circle I noticed two gigantic wooden poles, 
glorified maypoles in appearance, with a few prayer-tufts 
fluttering at the top of each. This eastern end of the central 
square was largely occupied by the shops of Kashmir and 
Nepalese»merchants. Many of these were closed in honour of 
the New Year, and those which were open had most of their 
wares displayed on little stalls outside the houses, rather than 
placed on counters inside the houses. Eventually we came 
to the south side of the central square and arrived at Tsarong’s 
palace, the entrance to which was, however, not on the Inner 
Circle, but from a narrow side-street. 

Tsarong’s palace followed the usual lines of Tibetan archi- 
tecture. It was three stories high and built principally of 
stone, but the outer walls were of no great importance, having 
no windows on the ground floor, and only small windows on 
the floors above. Obviously the life of the palace was centred 
around the courtyard or quadrangle, entered by a gateway 
which at night was closed by a huge wooden door heavily 
barred. The courtyard was roughly paved, but muddy and 
heaped with odds and ends, though much neater than most 
Tibetan courtyards. All around the base under the first 
balcony were the stalls for Tsarong’s horses and mules, a 
goodly number, some still standing richly saddled. The house 
was built up around all sides of the courtyard, but the rather 
imposing mass of the main residential wing rose up immediately 
before us. Crossing over the courtyard, we entered this wing 
by a small and insignificant door lying to oneside. In the 
gloom I could just distinguish the precipitous ladder which 
led up to the floor above. This ladder, with its round, 
slippery iron-sheathed rungs and polished willow handrail, 
was the only means of ascent. 

Once arrived up on the first floor, I saw to one side a small 
waiting-room where ordinary visitors are kept until they can be 
interviewed by one of the secretaries ; but as soon as I arrived 
one such secretary official stepped out and led me to the chief 
formal reception-room, which overlooked the courtyard. 


276 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


This was also the palace chapel: in Tibet it is always wise - 
to show one’s religiosity to visitors. The whole of one side of 
the room was occupied by huge gilded images, with burning 
butter-lamps and offering-bowls in front of them. The other 
side of the.room was filled by a built-in dais covered by thick 
woollen mattress cushions which served as chairs. On either 
side of the altar proper were pigeon-holes for books—religious 
books, of course—which were meant for adoration and not for 
reading. Violent colours covered every inch of wall. space— | 
vivid greens and blues, scarlet and gold, the latter two colours 
predominating ; but the general effect, aided by the gloom, was 
not entirely disharmonious. 

I was seated on the great dais, and tea was . immediately 
brought in and offered to me, but there then followed consider- 
able delay. My servants were kept in the passage outside, and 
I heard a good deal of whispering going on. 3 

Eventually a lady stepped in accompanied by a secretary. 
The lady I found to be Tsarong’s wife, or, to be more exact, one 
of his two wives. She told me that Tsarong was ill. The 
ceremonies at the Potala in the morning had commenced before 
five o’clock, and in the morning cold he had contracted a severe 
chill and was suffering from high fever. He had now fallen 
asleep and his servants were afraid to wake him. 

I told the good lady I was quite prepared to wait, and that 
His Excellency was certainly not to be disturbed on my account. 
I was much interested to notice that the lady of the house had 
come in person. Amongst the Mohammedans to the east and 
north, and in India and China, the upper-class women are 
forced to lead a very retired life, and are kept to a special wing 
of the house and never come into contact with male visitors, 
even when the husband is present. Here in Lhasa, on the other 
hand, in good Occidental fashion, the lady of the house sat 
down and by conversation sought to lessen the tedium of my 
wait. 

I was sorry that our talk was cut short, for it would have been 
interesting to get the viewpoint of a Lhasa woman of high rank, 
but a servant came into announce that His Excellency was at 
last awake and would see me immediately. 

I was then led upstairs to the second floor, to a private room 
very prettily decorated, where I found Tsarong lying on a dais. 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 274 


Unlike most Tibetan houses, this room contained a table and 
several chairs of Chinese design, and on one of these chairs I was 
seated. 

One is always supposed to give rich presents when visiting 
a powerful official in Tibet. It is, of course, bribery, but 
the thing is carried on very openly. I had no presents to 
give; I had only the ceremonial silk scarf, which one 
always presents in Tibet when making any sort of a formal 
visit. Tsarong greeted me very kindly and excused aioe 
for not getting up. 

He was a squat little man, inclined to fleshiness, and there 
was nothing very imposing in his presence. Nevertheless, he 
is the possessor of a very unusual personality, and is the 
one really great man of Tibet. In my opinion he is destined to 
play in his own country the same réle that Bismarck played in 
Germany and Ito in Japan, though, of course, he has to work 
with infinitely inferior material. Incidentally he is, in Tibet, 
the solitary instance of a self-made man. 

Although the Tibetans have no caste system, practically all 
the major offices of State, apart from the posts of incarnate 
abbots, such as that held by the Dalai Lama, are occupied by 
members of the great aristocratic families. Tsarong belongs 
to none of these. In fact, his father ranked below an ordinary 
peasant, being a bow-and-arrow maker. This is an occupation 
much despised by the Tibetans ; indeed, such a man is practi- 
cally an outcast. The name of Tsarong and the title of shapé are 
both acquired. As a boy he was known as Namgang. A 
spirited, reckless lad, his early escapades made Lhasa “‘too hot”’ 
to hold him and at the age of fourteen he had to flee to Mongolia, 
where he became a roving adventurer. His chance in life came 
a few years later, when the Dalai Lama was forced to seek 
refuge in the same country—Mongolia—in 1904, at the time 
that the Younghusband Expedition marched into Tibet. The 
temper of His Holiness at that time was such that he found it 
difficult to obtain or keep any servants. Consequently he was 
glad to accept Namgang as a personal attendant. The loyalty 
and the intelligence of the new servant soon attracted attention, 
and the young fellow was advanced into favour. As a special 
mark of esteem he was raised from a position corresponding to 
that of a private soldier and given a commission. On the 


278 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


return of the Dalai Lama to Tibet, in 1908, Namgang was 
created a captain. 

His greatest opportunity arrived with the Chinese invasion 
of Tibet in 1909-10. The Dalai Lama fled—this time to India 
—and the Chinese sent a pursuing army after him. Namgang, 
by his magnificent defence of Chushul, kept the Chinese back 
long enough to allow the Dalai Lama to escape into British 
territory. Namgang then attempted to follow him, but his 
retreat was cut off. ; 

Eventually he managed to get through the Chinese lines by 
dressing himself up as a courier of the Indian Government 
carrying British mail from Yatung into Sikkim. In this way 
the young officer was able to rejoin his leader in Darjeeling. 
Incidentally, Tsarong took my arrival in Lhasa as a huge joke, 
for he reminded me that while I had got from India to Tibet in 
disguise, he had been able to accomplish the same feat in an 
opposite direction. In 1911, the outbreak of the revolution in 
China weakened the moral of the Chinese soldiers stationed in 
Tibet. Namgang took this opportunity to restore the Dalai 
Lama to power. He entered Tibet secretly, raised peasant 
revolts against the Chinese garrisons, and in the end forced 
them all to surrender. At the same time the old Tibetan 
officials, who had been in friendly relation with the Chinese, 
were either banished or killed. .Among those who met the 
latter fate was a shapé, or secretary of State, called Tsarong. 
He and his son were hacked to pieces in the streets of Lhasa by 
a party of fighting monks. The Dalai Lama returned to Lhasa 
in triumph. As a reward for his services Namgang was made 
a shapé, and at the same time created Commander-in-Chief of 
the Army and Master of the Mint. The old Tsarong having 
left no heirs, Namgang was presented with the Tsarong estate. 
Hereafter he assumed the title of Tsarong Shapé. To make 
possession doubly sure, Namgang married both the daughter 
and the daughter-in-law of the original Tsarong Shapé. The 
latter was the widow of the murdered son. Tsarong, therefore, 
is one of the few people in Tibet who openly practises polygamy. 

Tsarong has retained his personal popularity with the Dalai 
Lama, and is now the most powerful man in the country. He 
is very modern in his ideas, and wishes to see the same awaken- 
ing in Tibet as has taken place in Japan. Acting under his 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 279 


advice, the Dalai Lama has instituted many reforms, which 
have had an enormously beneficial effect upon the country. 
Needless to say, these reforms have met with vigorous opposi- 
tion on the part of the monks, and among the priestly party 
Tsarong inspires only fear and hatred. Numerous attempts 
have been made to assassinate him, and he is forced always to 
keep a strong guard about his person. 

During this first interview, after we had conversed for some 
time on,general matters, we turned to my own affairs. Tsarong, 
I knew, had been actively in favour of permitting our whole 
party to come to Lhasa from the first, and privately he was 
pleased that I had been able to carry through the secret 
enterprise. He told me, moreover, that the Dalai Lama was 
not entirely antipathetic. Nevertheless, as the Tibetan 
Government, acting under pressure from the monks, had 
refused me permission to come, and I had arrived in disguise, 
it was necessary for me to undergo certain formalities. He 
advised me to make official notification of my arrival to the 
city magistrates the next day. These officials would report 
the matter to the Kashak, or Cabinet of Ministers, consisting 
of a Lénchen, or Prime Minister, and four shapés, or secretaries 
of State. This body would consider what steps should be 
taken in regard to me. Tsarong, of course, is a member of 
this Cabinet, and promised to put in a good word for me when 


the matter should come before it officially. 


Whatever the decision of the other members might be, he 
promised definitely, on his own responsibility, that I should 
receive personal protection. He suggested that I should, in 
my report to the authorities, expressly omit the names of the 
rest-houses in which I had stayed and the people with whom 
I had travelled. Otherwise the Government, or the clamour 
of the populace, might force him to take some active steps 
against me. From this I could see how powerless, in the face 
of fanaticism, even Tibet’s greatest man could be. We parted 
with every sign of cordiality on both sides. 

I had spent nearly three hours with Tsarong, and it was 
nearly dusk when I came out of his palace. 

We had now to return to our residence in the Trom-si-Kang, 
but we did not go back the way we had come; to have done 
so would be to go in the wrong direction, from right to left, 


280 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


keeping the cathedral on our left, and so we completed our . 
circuit of the Inner Circle, going along the south side to the 
western end. 

After a short time the road once more broadened out, leaving 
a wide open space. This was of great interest to me, as on 
the northern side of the space adjoining the main cathedral 
building was a curious sort of platform, rather elaborately 
decorated. This, I found, was the Lhasa pulpit, the only 
pulpit I ever saw in Tibet. 

Preaching plays no part in Tibetan religion. The peasants 
are quite willing to pay money to the priests to perform 
ceremonies for them. This propitiates the gods and demons— 
why, therefore, should one be forced to listen to sermons ? 
The monks, on the other hand, see no reason why religious 
secrets should be delivered to the masses, and so pulpits and 
preaching are alien to the religious system of Tibet—except 
for this one pulpit: This is used only by the Dalai Lama, who 
once a year, in the character of high-priest of his people, 
delivers a short discourse to the Lhasa community, which 
packs itself in the open space around. 

This annual sermon is a very quaint custom, and I was very 
anxious to learn something of its origin, but I found no one 
who could tell me. 

We now came to the western end of the central block of 
buildings. At the south-western corner I could see the 
Kashak buildings, really a wing of the cathedral, but very 
important, as inside this building was the Central Government 
of the country, with the offices of the Prime Minister, or 
Lénchen, the four shapés, or secretaries of State, and the 
Tsongdu, or National Assembly. 

A little beyond this, almost in the centre of the western side 
of the central square, was the main entrance of the cho-kang, 
or cathedral, a huge and ornate gateway hung with black 
curtains. This gateway was set slightly back, and in the open 
space in front I could see hundreds of persons prostrating 
themselves in. adoration of the divinities who were housed 
within. 

In the middle of the street, facing the cathedral, were two 
interesting stone tablets or monuments. One is comparatively 
modern, being built at the time of Chinese influence, and 1s 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 281 


,called the smallpox monument, as on its sides are inscribed 
an edict dealing with the quarantine regulations for smallpox, 
the most common disease in Tibet. Curiously enough, this 
has been defaced by a number of cuplike depressions resembling 
the pock-marks of the disease with which it deals. 

The other monument, surrounded by a high wall of stone, 
is a tall edict monolith, inscribed with the terms of a treaty of 
peace between China and Tibet executed in 783 between 
Repachen, King of Tibet, and the Emperor of China. At this 
time Tibet was a warlike, independent country, ruled over not 
by monks but by a secular king, and the treaty marked the 
end of a war in which the Tibetans had been successful over 
the Chinese. One side of this monument was overshadowed 
by an ancient willow, which is considered by the Tibetans as 
thrice holy in that it sprang from a hair of the Buddha which 
was brought and planted there. 

Continuing on our way we eventually came to the northern 
side of the square, and turning to the right we passed along it 
till we came to a large shrine, or chorten, supported on four 
pillars, so that one could pass under and through it. Just 
beyond the chorten was the Trom-si-Kang—our own home, 
to which we were glad to return. 

The day had been so full of thrills that I felt very tired and 
before long was asleep. 

The next morning I learnt from Sonam that the city magis- 
trates, who are joint mayors and judges of Lhasa, had their 
headquarters in the City Hall or Palace of Justice, a building 
almost immediately opposite my window. Just in front of 
this building I noticed two ringed stones fastened in the ground 
several feet apart. I wondered what these could be used for. 
I was soon to find out. I saw a side-door opened. A woman 
was dragged out by several petty officials. She was stripped of 
every stitch of clothing and thrown on the ground. Her arms 
were tied to one stone ring and her feet to the other. Two men 
then appeared with whips and began to flog her, giving her 150 
lashes inall. The lash cut into her flesh, causing huge weltering 
wounds. At first she screamed in her agony, but later fainted 
away. Water was thrown over her to revive consciousness, 
and then the grisly work began again. I was anxious to find 
out what crime the woman had committed to merit this 


282 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


punishment, and was informed that she was the vendor of 
the fireworks and squibs which by their explosion had caused 
so much damage the preceding day. When the sentence had 
been administered she was too weak to stand and had to be 
carried inside the building, where, I was told, she was flung down 
and left to recover by herself. I looked at the grim building 
and thought with a shudder of the ordeal I should have to 
undergo before the magistrates. Nevertheless, later in the day 
I sent “ Satan ’”’ and Lhaten to them to announce my arrival 
in the city and to request that they forward the information 
to the ministers of State. 

My servants returned and told me that the information 
seemed to have caused quite a good deal of excitement, which 
showed that the news of my arrival had been kept very secret. 
The magistrates had stated that the matter was so important 
that they could take no further action until they had consulted 
the higher authorities. 

I knew that this would take another day or two, and so settled 
down to inactivity for the rest of the day. For some time I 
amused myself by watching the crowd outside. New Year 
celebrations were in full swing, and the number of revellers as 
numerous as on the preceding day, but there was not quite so 
much drunkenness and rowdiness. 

In addition to the bell-dancers, I noticed a number of children 
playing in the market-place—many of them, boys and girls 
both, were skipping, the skipping-ropes being either of wool or 
of leather. Many women were out with their babies. Most of 
them carried the babies on their backs in Japanese fashion, and 
not on their hips, as do so many peoples, or in their arms. 

The chorten, or shrine, which lay a few yards away seemed a 
special object of attraction for the women. Many of them came 
with little prayer-cloths, which they attached to the shrine ; 
while others burned small quantities of brush in the adjoining 
sacrificial urn. 

Burnt-offerings of some sort play a part in all primitive 
religions. In Lhasa there is an even more striking instance of 
this ; some two miles to the south-west of the city, on the very 
summit of a precipitous hill, is a gigantic urn in which very 
smoky incense is burned every day. It takes several hours to 
climb this hill, so that the wealthier devotees prefer to pay 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 283 


, various coolies to carry the incense up for them ; but the merit 
acquired by the act belongs to the donor and not to the poor 
coolie. 

The afternoon of this day was marked by a very important 
event—the taking of a bath—the first bath I had been able to 
take since leaving Darjeeling, and the first time I had been able 
to wash my hands since entering Tibet. 

Even then, to get this bath was quite a feat. Sonam had no 
bath-tub, nor was there anything like a tub anywhere in the 
whole house, but eventually it was discovered that one of the 
Nepalese a few doors away had a tin tub used for washing 
clothes, and eventually he was persuaded to lend it to me for 
the occasion. 

It took some time to heat the necessary amount of water 
in the ordinary teapots and then pour it into the tub, but at 
last everything was ready—when, to my horror, I discovered 
that after all I did not want totakea bath! Cleanliness and 
dirtiness are largely a question of habit, and perhaps of climate. | 


At first the steadily-increasing layer of dirt had been a misery, ~ | 


but now, with the Tibetans, I had come to regard it as a secure 
protection. 

I did not, however, dare go back on the proposition after all 
the elaborate preparations, and so I scrubbed myself to a 
resemblance of cleanliness, though I knew that with my accumu- 
lation of filth I should have to get properly clean on the instal- 
ment plan. 

Sonam and his family regarded my bath as a huge joke— | 
and in one respect the joke really was on me, for thereafter I 
did suffer more acutely from two things—lice and cold. 

The lice had been there all the time—ever since Kampa Dzong 
—but for some reason the dirt and grease had made it so that I 
could not feel them, but now I became acutely conscious of their 
presence, and set out to make war against them. But it was 
a battle of a million to one—and the million were successful. 

The cold I had counted on, and counteracted this by putting 
on more clothes. Even in Lhasa this is the one way of keeping 
warm. Lhasa, in common with the rest of Tibet, knows no 
other fuel than dried dung (the better classes here use yak- 
dung, the poorer classes horse- and mule-dung) ; this burns up 
too quickly to use as fuel for anything except cooking, so when 


284 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the temperature drops the Tibetan merely dons an additional. 
suit of clothes. 

The water for the bath, and for all other purposes, came from 
a well in the courtyard—the conception of running water is 
entirely alien to Tibet. Every day the servants would go down 
to draw the necessary supply. 

Unlike most parts of Tibet, Lhasa suffers from no lack of 
water. The whole of the Lhasa Plain is very marshy, and at 
no point does one have to go lower than four or five feet to 
strike water. For this reason the Tibetans believe that the 
Sacred City is built over a great lake, which would rise and 
engulf the whole city were it not for the magic power of their 
god-king. 

The shallowness of the well made the water very dangerous. 
Great manure and refuse heaps lay all around it—the courtyard 
privy being only a few feet away—so that anyone interested in 
germs should have a life’s work in studying the contents of the 
./ water, but everyone drank only tea—and prayed to the gods, 
and so survived. 

The courtyard was also the community slop-basin—every- 
thing left over, liquid or solid, was dumped into it. 

The next day brought one further development. Early in 
the morning two officials sent by the city magistrates arrived 
to announce that a formal inquiry would be held in a few days’ 
time, and begged me to remain within doors and to keep the 
fact of my arrival secret until then. They were afraid that the 
Lhasa rabble, always excited to fever pitch about New Year’s 
time, might storm the place and tear me to pieces if they knew 
that I had come into the Sacred City in spite of all precautions 
intended to keep me out. They apologetically added that at 
all ordinary times the magistrates had control over the city 
and could guarantee my safety; but that at the present 
moment the place was so full of turbulent monks that they 
frequently found it impossible to keep order. The position 
was further complicated by the fact that for twenty-one days, 
beginning with the next afternoon, the city government would 
be handed over to two monks appointed by the Drepung 
Monastery. This is an annual custom, and during this period 
even the Dalai Lama and his Cabinet would have no control over 
the metropolis, and any disorder would have to be curbed by 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 285 


the two temporary ecclesiastical mayors. These were known 
to be bitterly anti-foreign, and would have little interest in 
protecting me from popular attack. I thanked the officials 
for telling me all this, and promised not to go about openly, but 
reserved to myself the right to wander about the streets after 
dusk or in disguise. 

Cooped up as I was, the rest of the day promised to be very 
tedious, but things livened up very considerably when later on 
an official named Kyipup paid me a visit. 

Kyipup’s interest lay in the fact that he is one of the two 
Tibetans living who had been to England. Although Tibetans 
have such a fanatical objection against allowing any foreigner 
to enter their own land, there seems to be no feeling against a 
Tibetan who goes outside of his own country, even when he 
returns. For this reason several Tibetans have wandered into 
Mongolia and China, chiefly bent on trade, and in recent years 
more and more people have found their way down to India 
in order to buy and sell in the Kalimpong market, and also 
others bent on pilgrimage to the sacred places of Buddhism 
which are to be found in India, for though Buddhism has long 
since died out in India, India was, of course, the land of its 
origin. Here the historic Buddha was born, here he retired from 
the world to lead the ascetic life, here he attained complete 
enlightenment, preached the first of a long series of discourses, 
and here at length he died. In Tibet the historic Buddha has 
been overshadowed by mythological divinities, but the Tibetan 
still regards it as an act of great piety to go to the places in “ 
India made holy by the presence of the human founder of his 
religion, so that even in Lhasa persons who have been to India 
and know something of conditions there are not uncommon. 

But in the ordinary course of events nothing would have 
brought a Tibetan to Europe. When the Younghusband 
Expedition was in Tibet in 1904, it was thought wise to 
get hold of two or three youngsters of aristocratic families 
and send them to England to be educated at the Indian 
Government’s expense. Some difficulty was found in securing 
such boys, as the better-class. families were loath to entrust 
their offspring to the tender mercies of the “ foreign devils,” 
but subsequently three scions of the lesser nobility were obtained 
with which to try the experiment. 


286 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


One of them, reputed to be the most promising, died before « 
the success of the idea could be judged, but the other two, after 
spending several years in England, are now back in their 
native land. 

One of them, Kyipup, who had come vo see me, had been 
given a general education at Rugby, while the other, Mondron, 
was sent to a mining college in Cornwall, where he learned 
something of prospecting and mining engineering. 

Both boys picked up English very quickly—in fact, they 
soon forgot most of their Tibetan, and had to write to their 
parents in English, so the outraged families had to call in a 
native interpreter before they could get any idea of how their 
sons were faring. Kyipup was reported to be very good- 
hearted and honest, but stupid, while Mondron made good 
progress in his studies, but picked up a reputation for Oriental 
wiliness. Nevertheless, both boys adapted themselves to 
English life, and there was a good deal of interest around as to 
how they would fare on their return to their native land. 

On the whole the experiment seems to have been a failure. 
They were considered denaturalized by their fellow-country- 
men, and instead of being promoted to higher positions, they 
have lagged around the bottom of the official ladder. This is 
rather remarkable considering the recent efforts which the 
Dalai Lama, backed by Tsarong Shapé, has made to reorganize 
his government on a modern basis. Kyipup has been made 
an official in the new Post-Office, while Mondron was given an 
opportunity to use his talents and find gold. When he failed 
to bring forth huge quantities of the precious metal, the upper 
officials decided that the fault must be not in the real absence 
of gold, but in the young prospector, and so promptly dismissed 
him. 

Kyipup is quite content to spend an easy-going and care-free 
existence in the Post-Office, so long as he can smoke vast 
quantities of cigarettes in secret, but Mondron, more ambitious, 
and realizing that the line of promotion lies in the Church, has 
become a monk, though, of course, going on with his official 
work. 

It may be that part of the unofficial disfavour with which 
they are regarded is due to a dramatic episode which took 
place shortly after their return. Fired with youthful enthu- 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 287 


siasm, they brought back with them a motor-cycle. The 
Dalai Lama, wishing to know more of the “‘ devil machine,”’ 
ordered a demonstration to be made on the plain outside of 
Lhasa. The motor-cycle was duly started, but the tremendous 
noise that it made so startled the mules on which the Dalai 
Lama and his escort were riding that they ran away, and 
very nearly caused the incarnate deity of Tibet to have a 
bad fall. 

In an attempt to avoid high wrath for this misfortune, the 
motor-cycle was immediately presented as a gift to His Holiness. 
Since then it has lain unused in a corner of the palace. 

The difference in the character of the two boys was well 
illustrated by their attitude towards me. The naive Kyipup 
came to pay me a visit and talk over old times in England. I 
found he remembered his English very well. Mondron, how- 
ever, knowing that I was a persona non grata to the Government, 
carefully stayed away. He was already suspect with the 
fanatical monks by his previous contact with the West, and did 
not wish to get himself into further hot water by having it 
known that he had consorted with the “ foreign devil ’’ who had 
come to Lhasa in disguise. 

The next day the two monks from the Drepung Monastery 
who were to act as rulers of the city for the next three weeks 
made their official entry into the city at about ten o’clock in the 
morning. In honour of their arrival the whole of the street 
round the central square, which I have called the Inner Circle, 
was strewn with sand so that the new Lords of Misrule would 
not have to walk on ground polluted by common feet. 

Attended by a number of fighting monks from Drepung, who 
acted as a bodyguard, they came in solemn procession and made 
a formal tour round the Inner Circle. The advance-guard 
called out from time to time warning the populace to make way 
for the new rulers, while others, armed with long wooden staves, 
struck out at the mob as they passed by. 

After the procession had gone round the central square it 
returned to the open space underneath my window, halting just 
before the Palace of Justice. The officials of the Palace of 
Justice, who at ordinary times have charge of the city, then 
came out of the building, and with all their attendants knelt 
down in the sand in token of deep humility. 


288 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


The two new Lords of Misrule now proceeded, one at a time, to. 
to give along harangue. This was delivered in a curious chant- 
ing tone while the speaker moved in a slow, curious dancing 
gait. Both of the new rulers carried singular square black 
poles, wonderfully carved and decorated, attached to their 
hands by silk cords. One of them, I noticed, had an 
excellently-trimmed moustache and beard. 

The temporary mayors, in the course of their harangue, 
informed the officials that though they, the civilians, might 
remain ostensibly in power, yet for the next three weeks all 
ultimate power was to be in the hands of the monks, and that 
even the Cabinet and the Dalai Lama were subject to their 
jurisdiction. 

This, of course, was true. In times past punishments have 
actually been inflicted upon the Dalai Lama himself, for some 
trifling misdemeanour, by the two Drepung monks during their 
brief tenure of office. 

These two ruling monks, let it be noted, are not the abbots 
or high-priests of Drepung, nor any of its leading professors or 
scholars, but monks of no particularly high ecclesiastical rank 
who act as censors or deans of the monastic community. 

Their appointment to the rulership of the city is due to the 
fact that during their period of office all the monks from the 
surrounding monasteries crowd into the city to join in the New 
Year festivities, and so the monks greatly outnumber the civi- 
lian population, and the ordinary civil officials find it impossible 
to keep order over the ecclesiastical bravados. At the end of 
the three weeks, when the monks leave Lhasa and return to 
their monasteries, the power of these two temporary rulers 
automatically lapses, but it is renewed again for a further 
period of ten days beginning on the twenty-second day of the 
second month of the Tibetan calendar, when the monks once 
more crowd into the city. 

Although the visiting monks come from all the surrounding 
monasteries, the two Lords of Misrule are invariably representa- 
tives of Drepung. This is a privilege very jealously guarded by 
this great monastery. 

It is said to be a privilege granted to Drepung by the fifth 
and greatest of the Dalai Lamas. It was this man who made 
the Dalai Lamas the temporal rulers of the whole country. 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 289 


,He granted this right to Drepung in recognition of the great 
service which the monastery had rendered in establishing his 
universal authority. 

Since that time this annual custom has proved very vexatious 
to subsequent Dalai Lamas, and very substantially diminished 
their authority. 

The present ruler, unusually keen and ambitious, has been 
very aggressive in asserting his rights and in curbing the 
authority, of the usurpers. He has more than once hinted to 
the monks that a privilege which one Dalai Lama gave another 
Dalai Lama could take away. This statement was particu- 
larly pointed because, according to Tibetan belief, the present 
Dalai Lama is a reincarnation of his predecessors, including the 
fifth Dalai Lama. 

The present ruler would undoubtedly like to carry out his 
threat and abolish the New Year regentship, but dares not do 
so owing to the great outcry which would follow, so he is wisely 
trying the better plan of gradually reducing the powers of 
the two Lords of Festivities to a shadow, having it as a 
part of the New Year pageantry—but he has still a long way 
to go. 

After the harangue had finished the new rulers departed to 
their official residence and the procession broke up, but I 
noticed that from this time on every priest in Lhasa assumed a 
much more arrogant tone, and jostled out of the way any civilian 
whom he might meet. Asa result of this new bravado a fight 
broke out in another flat in the same house in which I was 
living. Thirteen monks were having a banquet together, and 
subsequently drifted into a theological argument. Evidently 
they must have differed on some detail, for they came to 
blows, and out of the original thirteen only eight survived. 
The other five were found murdered in the morning. This 
case was the first to occupy the attention of the new 
mayors. 

The whole of the morning of the next day was taken up by 
another great procession in honour of the new officials. 

This was really an historical pageant. Some of the members 
were on foot, while others were on horseback. All the partici- 
pators were dressed in ornate silk costumes illustrating different 
important epochs in the country’s past. Many were mere 

T 


290 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


youngsters who wore masks representing various historical . 
personages. | 

As usual, the procession passed round and round the city 
several times, so that from my window I got an excellent view of 
the whole affair ; but the most important event of the day, so 
far as I was concerned, was the second visit I was able to pay 
Tsarong Shapé this afternoon. Officially, of course, he was not 
yet aware of my arrival, so the whole affair had to be carried on 
very secretly. I found that he had now quite recovered from 
his recent indisposition and was in excellent spirits, though he 
warned me that I should have to look out for squalls in the 
near future, as some members of the Kashak were greatly 
angered at my arrival and had insisted upon an official, 
though secret, inquiry into the matter. In this connection 
he suggested one or two things I should stress when the 
inquiry came. 

He once more promised that he would do all that he could for 
me behind the scenes, and apologized for the fact that he was 
forced to act indirectly, but he said the monks were already 
extremely angry with him for the large number of European 
reforms that he had introduced, and were he to stand openly 
as my sponsor, it would be used as a means of stirring up 
wrath against himself and the modernist tendency of the 
Government. 

I could not but wonder at the wrath of some of the reaction- 
aries against Tsarong when I saw how very European he was 
in some of his ways. As Commander-in-Chief of the Army he 
had seen the cumbersomeness of the native dress for the soldiers, 
and he had arranged for all his officers and men to be dressed 
in a style almost identical with that of the British Army. 

He himself was dressed then, as always, in uniform, preferring 
that to the dress of a-»shapé, to which he was of course entitled. 
He confessed, however, that though they looked incongruous 
with European uniform, there were two articles of Tibetan 
dress he could not bring himself to discard. One was the huge 
turquoise ear-ring which Tibetan gentlemen wear in their left 
ear. The other was the Tibetan top-knot, or the fashion of 
twisting the hair of the head into a curious little knot.on the 
top of the head, through which was thrust a little jewelled 
ornament indicating the rank of the wearer, 





db 
TSARONG SHAPE 
Commander-in-Chief of the New Army and Master of the Mint 





e 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 201 


The wearing of this top-knot is confined to the higher 
officials, from the fourth rank upwards. Remembering 
Tsarong’s rise from the lowest class, it was humorous to note 
that he could not refrain from the use of the badge of the old 
privileged nobility into whose ranks he had only recently 
climbed. But certainly, if anyone deserves this or any other 
token of rank, it is Tsarong. 

The little room in which I was received this time was fixed 
up in a.European style, and the little dinner to which Tsarong 
insisted that I stay contained several semi-European dishes, 
the materials for which he imports at enormous expense from 
India. For drink we had two mixtures—one ginger-wine and 
brandy, the other créme de menthe and whisky—certainly the 
recipe for the latter must have originated in his own fertile 
head. Most surprising of all, he hauled out after dinner a 
huge English pipe, which he filled with strong shag and 
smoked. Considering the great prejudice against tobacco, 
this was remarkable, but even Tsarong dares not smoke in 
public. 

Another of Tsarong’s secret hobbies is amateur photography. 
He has secured a photographic outfit and has taken some 
excellent snapshots. The only people who object to being 
photographed are the monks, who, as usual, are fanatical upon 
the subject. 

I noticed on the wall of the room a photograph of Tsarong 
and his two wives, taken by one of his underlings. I was 
interested to note how open he was about his bigamy, and that 
the two wives seemed to be on very friendly terms with one 
another, but I noticed that he was wise enough to have one 
wife living in one palace and the other in another. 

Apart from his country estates in the Takpo Valley and 
elsewhere, Tsarong has three mansions in the neighbourhood 
of Lhasa: two a mile or two outside the city, and one city 
palace, in which I now was. 

To my surprise, I found that he was building a new city 
palace only a few hundred yards away from his present 
establishment. I later found that the real reason for this was 
that he believes the present palace to be haunted by the old 
murdered Tsarong and his son, whose estates and womenfolk 
the present man has inherited, Tsarong has had several 


292 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


children who died in infancy, and there is left to him only one 
sickly little boy. Medical science would account for this in 
another way, but even the modern and progressive Tsarong 
believes that these calamities are due to the ghosts of his 
predecessors who are thirsting for revenge, and he believes 
that in a new building the shades of the dead will be powerless. 

We had a long and interesting talk that afternoon, and as 
no one else—not even a servant—was within hearing, he spoke 
quite freely. 

Tsarong claims to be, and no doubt is, a very devout 
Buddhist. He had prayers said for his recovery and even has 
a learned old geshé, or doctor of (Buddhist) divinity, come 
in to talk points of metaphysics with him, but he has no 
illusions as to the nature and value of the average Tibetan 
monk. 

He claims, and quite rightly, that there are far too many 
inhabitants of the monasteries. This surplus number weakens, 
he says, the economic structure of the country, and, even from 
the religious point of view, it is impossible for so many people 
to be really fitted for the monastic life, consequently he is 
doing what he can to limit the number of entrants to the 
priesthood and place it on a more competitive basis. 

Tsarong is anxious to open up Tibet to foreigners, believing 
the country is now strong enough to maintain its independence 
in spite of their presence ; but this I doubt. In any case, in 
spite of his influence, there seems to be little chance that he 
will have his way on this point. 

Tsarong displayed a keen interest in European politics, and 
to my surprise manifested a fairly accurate knowledge of the 
general trend of affairs. He stated that the Bolshevik revolu- 
tion completely destroyed any sympathy which the Tibetan 
Government might have had for Russia. He quaintly added, 
“It would have been all right if the Russians had deposed 
their ruler—but to kill him was another matter.”’ Considering 
how bloodstained Tsarong’s own picturesque career was, I 
rather marvelled at this opinion, but obviously the killing of 
a ruler and the killing of a subject were two different things. 

Realizing how European Tsarong is in so many ways, and 
the fact that he had spent many months in India, I was 
surprised to find that he speaks neither Hindustani nor English, 


THE STRONG MAN OF TIBET 203 


At present he is trying to pick up a little English from Sonam’s 
brother, who has studied in Kalimpong, but lessons are still 
in the elementary state and we had to converse entirely in 
Tibetan. 

After a long and pleasant sojourn with him, I returned to 
Sonam’s abode late in the evening. 


CHAPTER XXIII 
BEFORE THE CITY MAGISTRATES 


THE next day the city had somewhat quieted down, and I 
was called over to the Palace of Justice by the civil magistrates 
and asked to aid them in composing a letter to the Kashak, or 
Cabinet, explaining how and why I came to Lhasa. I found 
the two officials upstairs ina tiny room. They were clad in red- 
silk robes, with purple facings that looked so exactly like my 
Oxford doctor’s gown that I burst out laughing when I first 
saw them. They were seated on a dais at the end of the room. 
Over them was a golden canopy, and on a small lacquer table 
in front of them were placed jade cups with silver stands and 
covers, which were constantly being replenished by small pages 
with the usual buttered tea. Along either side of the room ran 
lower cushions, on which clerks were seated cross-legged. 
Generally, any person who is called before the magistrates is 
forced to kneel down on the bare floor before them, but a special 
exception was made in my case, and a senior clerk vacated his 
seat for me. 

The senior magistrate expatiated upon the wickedness of my 
action in coming to Lhasa, and said that many officials were 
extremely angry at my audacity and wished to see that I was 
given proper punishment, so that he advised me to be very tact- 
ful in my statement, which would be forwarded to the higher 
authorities, and make it include a special plea for mercy. 

I then made a long statement in colloquial Tibetan which I 
thought would suit the purpose. This was then redrafted into 
literary, or more properly epistolary, Tibetan by the magis- 
trates and dictated to one of the clerks. 

The clerk took down his dictation on a black rectangular 
wooden board smeared with white chalk. He scribbled with a 


294 


BEFORE THE CITY MAGISTRATES 295 


metal-pointed instrument which, clearing away the chalk, left 
the black surface exposed. When the document had been 
duly copied on paper with Tibetan pen and ink, the board was 
again smeared with chalk and was ready for use again. 

At first both magistrates, though courteous, had been very 
hostile in their attitude, but they were obviously pleased that I 
was acquainted with their language and knew something of the 
customs and beliefs of the land, and eventually, by the inten- 
tional naiveté and simplicity of my answers, I won something 
of their sympathy. In keeping with my naiveté I managed to 
forget the names of all the rest-houses where I had stopped 
on the way, as I was anxious not to get innocent people into 
trouble. 

After the official business was concluded, and while waiting 
for the clerk to make the final copy of my statement, I 
managed to havea long chat with the two magistrates on 
general matters. They asked me several questions about life 
in England, but, unlike Tsarong, they were appallingly 
ignorant of everything which took place outside of their own 
country. To them Tibet was the centre of the world, the heart 
of civilization, and even their interest in European life was 
quite perfunctory—they asked questions in quite the same way 
that an average Englishman might inquire as to the cannibal 
tribes of the South Sea Islands. I found that, apart from the 
highest Court circles, this attitude was common all over Lhasa. 

For my part, I took the opportunity to secure from them a 
good deal of information concerning the native administra- 
tion of justice. Law is at the present time a very vague thing 
in Tibet. The ancient custom code has broken down, and the 
magistrates now attempt to judge every case on its individual 
merits, irrespective of statutes and only slightly influenced by 
precedent. My new friends complained to me of their present 
difficulty in assigning proper punishments. Tibet has never 
had a prison system. Criminals are kept locked up only while 
they are pending trial. In former times it was customary to 
cut off a hand or a leg and to gouge out the eyes as a punishment 
for any serious offence. The present Dalai Lama, however, 
considers these punishments to be inconsistent with Buddhism, 
consequently he abolished them a short time ago, so that 
legally the judges can now only inflict flogging or banishment 


206 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


for any crime, including murder. The Lhasa magistrates 
stated that these sentences were not sufficiently severe to deter 
other offenders, and expressed regret that the old system had 
been done away with. 

Later I heard that the judges’ regret at the abolition of the 
older punishments was possibly due to mixed motives. Practi- 
cally all officials in Tibet are in the habit of taking bribes. In 
the old days a man was willing to pay a large sum to the magis- 
trate in order to retain his limbs or his eyes, but to-day the 
criminal is not so eager to expend an equally large sum merely 
in order to avoid a beating. Yet bribing persists, and a prisoner 
assigned so many lashes can have the sentence mitigated by 
paying to the magistrates the equivalent of 6d. for each stroke 
remitted. Even when a certain number of lashes has been 
prescribed, the official whippers beat lightly or heavily accord- 
ing as to whether or not the prisoner is able and willing to give 
them a present. 

During the last few months the Tibetans have just begun to 
adopt compulsory labour as a punishment. A notable case of 
this kind was when a clever young monk from Sera was found 
guilty of forging some of the new Government paper-money. 
In admiration of his skill he was sentenced to work for two years 
without pay as a craftsman in the new Lhasa arsenal. 

The next development took place two days later, when the 
Cabinet, having read my petition, commanded me to appear 
before them in order to discuss certain of its statements. I was 
told once more to muffle up my face and to come in ordinary 
Tibetan clothes so that no one should notice who I was as I 
passed through the streets. | 

The headquarters of the Kashak, or Cabinet, it will be 
remembered, are in one wing of the great cathedral, though it 
has a separate entrance. 

On this occasion I had little opportunity of seeing much of 
the cathedral proper. Subsequently, however, I had several 
opportunities of visiting it, and may as well give a brief descrip- 
tion of it here. 

It should be remembered that this building is the very heart 
and soul of Tibetan Buddhism, the centre of all attraction to 

4 the thousands of pilgrims who flock annually to Lhasa, the 
abode of the gods. To be quite correct, this cathedral is itself 


BEFORE THE CITY MAGISTRATES 297 


Lhasa, and the city only the buildings which have sprung up 
around it. It is said to have been built in A.D. 652, but it has, 
of course, been restored and added to since then. 

On passing through the great entrance-gates, one finds 
_ oneself in the outer courtyard, the sides of which are occupied 

by covered and pillared verandahs. The walls of this court- 
yard are covered with frescoes long since rendered invisible 
from age. This courtyard contains only two things of interest : 
an outer chapel, where a number of important services are held 
—this is near the entrance to the inner courtyard—and, along 
the left wall, a throne for the Dalai Lama where he and his 
attendants sit to witness certain ceremonies which are held in 
this courtyard. 

Beyond the outer courtyard, and separated from it by a 
long, dark passage-way barred at either end by gates, lies the 
inner courtyard: The corner of this courtyard is used as 
a flower-bed, and in season the blossoms should be very 
beautiful, though of course it was now lifeless. 

Immediately opposite, at the end of the courtyard, is the 
chief shrine,-but screened from view by a wall of open iron 
trellis-work. In front of this, on either side, are two statues 
of Maitreya, the blessed saint who now dwells in the Tusita 
Paradise waiting for the time to come when he will descend to 
earth to be incarnated as the next Buddha, or saviour of the 
world. The pillared walls of this courtyard are covered with 
hundreds of images of various Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. 

Behind the walls runs a long, dark passage all around the 
courtyard. Opening out from this are various chapels also 
containing important images. 

In order to get to the great central shrine one has to go around 
by means of the passage. On the way one sees a statue of 
Shar-Tsong-Kapa, the great reformer of Tibetan Buddhism 
_ in the fourteenth century, the organizer of the all-powerful 
yellow-hat sect to which both the Dalai and the Trashi Lama 
belong. 

Eventually one comes to the central shrine, the Holy of 
Holies, and stands before the chief image. This represents the 
historical Buddha in his youth, when he was still a royal 
prince, and before he had renounced the world to become an 
ascetic. This image is supposed to have been made from life, 


298 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


in India, then taken to China, and finally brought to Tibet. . 
Its history is doubtful, but certainly it is the most holy image 

of Tibet, the object of the unbounded adoration of the Tibetan, 
and enormous wealth in the form of offerings are laid on its 
altar. The lamps which burn before it are of pure gold, and 
everything about the image is covered with enormous, though 
uncut, precious stones. 

This great image of the central shrine represents Tibet’s 
contact with the earlier, more primitive Buddhism, where the 
historic character of the founder plays an important part. 
The floor above is largely devoted to the worship of the fierce 
female demon who acts as the dread guardian of Buddhism. 
Female deities are a late development in Buddhism, and this 
particular deity dates from an even later time (probably seventh 
century A.D.), when some of the gods and goddesses had come 
to be considered terrorizing and bloodthirsty creatures whose 
wrath must be appeased. The lady represented here, Peden 
(or Paldan) Lhamo, is the most terrible of the furies. She has 
many forms, some mild, representing her as a gracious lady, 
the hearer of prayers ; others which portray her as the goddess 
of black magic, of war, of disease, and of death. 

In the upper room of the cho-kang, or cathedral, there are 

_Amages representing her in both aspects, but naturally one’s 
eye is especially caught by the image of her in her more horrible 
phases. The colour is black, representing mystery and death. 
She is riding on a fawn-coloured mule, but she is clad in the 
skins of dead men, and is eating brains from a human skull. 
Offerings of chang, or beer—a substitute for blood—are made 
to her in other human skulls, while as the goddess of battle she 
is surrounded by all sorts of weapons. 

All around the image, and the room, run hundreds of tame 
mice, which are sacred in that they are reincarnations of 
monks and nuns consecrated to her service. Mice are sacred 
to her in her character of the dispenser of disease, a curious 
forerunner of the modern theory that the rodents are 
germ-carriers. 

Considering the terrible and bloodthirsty nature of the lady, 
it is rather curious and amusing to find that the Tibetans 

believed she was recently incarnated in the world as the late 

Queen Victoria ! ? 


IVYGHAHLVO NVLAGIL V NI LOGSV dvad V AO ADIT ALINIAIG NVLAGIL V 








BEFORE THE CITY MAGISTRATES 299 


It is only proper that a large chapel on the ground floor is 
dedicated to the more important of all Tibetan kings, Srong- 
Tsang-gampo, and his two wives. He is supposed to have 
lived in the seventh century A.D. Prior to his time Tibet was 
split up into a number of small warring savage tribes, utterly 
devoid of any culture, and possessing no means of reading or 
writing. Not only did he unite the country into one kingdom, 
but he made marauding attacks on his neighbours, China and 
Nepal, and forced the ruling families of both countries to 
supply him with a consort. 

Both ladies brought with them something of the culture of 
their native lands, and through their influence Tibet began to 
assume a veneer of civilization. More important still, both 


queens were Buddhists. Not only did the king adopt their 


religion, but he became an enthusiastic proselytizer. He 
founded the cathedral and opened up the country to Buddhist 
monks. 

Srong-Tsang-gampo, the Constantine of Tibetan Buddhism, 
was later followed by Langdarma, who played the part of 
Julian the Apostate, and who attempted to root out the new 
religion, but he was murdered by a zealous monk, and there- 
after the new religion continued to make steady progress— 
progress, in fact, so great that the secular line of kings was 
overthrown in favour of a hierarchy of monks. For a while, 
as we have seen, the chief power lay in the hands of the abbots 
of the Sakya Monastery, hundreds of miles away, but eventually 
Lhasa became once more the capital under the rulership of 
the chief priest of the young but vigorous yellow-cap order. 
Nevertheless, not only is Srong-Tsang-gampo regarded as an 
incarnation of divinity (deification is the common lot of every 
great hero in Tibet), but his spirit is supposed to be reincarnated 
in every succeeding Dalai Lama. 

On this particular day, however, I was more interested in 
the south-western wing of the cathedral, which is used as the 
headquarters of the Tibetan Cabinet. Here I met the Lénchen, 
or Prime Minister, and his colleagues, Ngapo Shapé and Parkang 
Dzasa. Tsarong was careful to be absent on this occasion, 
but in any case he rarely attends the Cabinet meeting, as he 
usually spends most of the day on the parade-ground at Settam 
training his troops, or at Norbu Linga, the private residence 


300 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE. 


of the Dalai Lama, in personal attendance on His Holiness. . 
Another shapé, or secretary of State, called Trimon Shapé, was 
absent from Lhasa during the whole of my visit, being engaged 
on a political mission in Kam (or Kham), the great province 
in the east of Tibet. Parkang is the only ecclesiastical member 
of the Cabinet, all the others being laymen. Technically, he 
is not a full shapé, as can be seen by his title of Dzasa, but for 
several years past he has acted in that capacity. 

The office and title of Lénchen is very modern ; its creation 
was due to special causes. Prior to 1904 the Cabinet consisted 
only of four shapés (the literal translation of the name sha#é is 
“ lotus-foot ’’). As a result of the Younghusband Expedition 
the Dalai Lama was forced to flee to Mongolia, and the govern- 
ment of Tibet reverted to the hands of the Tsong-du, or National 
Assembly, a Parliament consisting chiefly of representa- 
tives of the great Lhasa monasteries, and, consequently, 
thoroughly reactionary. This body considered that the mili- 
tary and diplomatic defeat of Tibet was largely due to the 
ineptitude of the then existing shapés. The latter were removed 
from office and banished, four new men being appointed to take 
their place. 

In 1908, when the Dalai Lama returned to Lhasa and to 
power, he felt that the ex-officers should be recompensed for the 
injury done them. One of them was already dead, but the 
other three were recalled to the capital. His Holiness did not 
dare depose the four existing shapés, so he instituted the new 
office of super-shapé, or lénchen (lit. ‘‘ great minister ’’), and had 
the three exiles installed as such. This was intended as a 
temporary measure, and the posts were automatically to cease 
with the death of the three men concerned; but for a time 
the Cabinet consisted of seven men, three lénchens and four 
shapés. Two of the lénchens are dead, and the remaining 
one is an old and feeble man. On his decease the Cabinet will 
once more consist only of four shapés, though there is some talk 
that the Dalai Lama will decide to continue the office of lénchen 
and appoint Tsarong to fill it. 

The Kashak is a very important body. The Tibetans have 
never learnt to differentiate between the executive and judicial 
functions of government. Every Governor is also the judge of 
his district, and the Kashak, in addition to being charged with 


BEFORE THE CITY MAGISTRATES 301 


, the administration of the country, constitutes the High Court 
of Appeal. The executive powers of the Dalai Lama are all 
exercised through the Kashak. This body appoints and 
dismisses the Governors of the fifty-three districts, and all other 
principal officers. It issues laws and ordinances, but, in order 
to appease the turbulent monks, important points of legislative 
policy are placed before the National Assembly. The members 
of the Kashak are appointed by the Dalai Lama, and are respon- 
sible only to him. Tsarong Shapé, as Commander-in-Chief of 
the Army, and as Master of the Mint, has special functions 
assigned to him ; but the other members of the Cabinet are not 
individually charged with the supervision of a particular 
department or ministry. Their duties are to attend at the 
general meetings of the cabinet, before which all State matters 
are brought and decided. 

The Kashak meets every day of the week except Saturday. 
Every Thursday it assembles in the presence of the Dalai Lama, 
either at the Potala or at his private palace, Norbu Linga, in 
which he prefers to reside on ordinary occasions. On that day 
the business which has transpired during the whole week is 
reviewed. The Dalai Lama takes a great deal of personal 
interest in these details, and frequently lays down certain lines 
of policy which must be followed by the Kashak in deciding 
future cases. At the same time, he is careful never to 
insist on any point which he thinks may arouse public 
opposition. He has twice lost his throne, and has no desire 
to do so again. 

On the occasion of my visit I found the three ministers seated 
cross-legged in a shabby little room full of papers, little better 
than that occupied by the city magistrates. Ngapa and Park- 
ang said very little, and the conversation which ensued was 
carried on almost entirely by Lénchen and myself. I felt that 
the other two were inclined to be hostile, but Lénchen main- 
tained an even courtesy, though he was obviously upset by 
the trouble which my entry into Lhasa had caused the Govern- 
ment. He is a mild, timid man, with much more of the air 
of a religious recluse than of Tibet’s highest civil official. His 
policy is one of irresolution and compromise. His intentions 
are excellent, but he is easily frightened from carrying them 
out by the slightest show of forcible opposition. He has none 


302 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


of that devil-may-care attitude which makes Tsarong so . 
charming. 

He told me that the Kashak hardly knew what to do 
about me. He claimed that he and the other shapés 
had no anti-foreign prejudice, but as the National Assembly 
had been most vehement in rejecting the proposition that 
we be allowed to come on to Lhasa from Gyangtsé, he 
was afraid that its members would become very angry 
when they heard of my arrival. Nevertheless, as I was 
here, Lonchen added, he had been persuaded—here I saw 
Tsarong’s influence—to allow me to stay on for a 
further period, though he asked me to remain more or 
less in disguise, and not let the populace gain an inkling 
of my arrival, lest a riot take place. 

Loénchen was anxious to know what made me so keen to come 
to Lhasa. It was impossible to get him to understand the 
pleasures of undertaking an adventurous and dangerous journey ; 
had I talked about anthropological research he would have 
thought me mad, so I informed him that so keen was my thirst 
for knowledge of Buddhism that I risked everything to drink 
from the fountain of wisdom at Lhasa. The old gentleman then 
thought he would like to test my knowledge of Buddhist 
philosophy, and asked me to interpret a text, which may be 
translated as follows : ‘‘ Salutation to the peerless teacher who 
has silenced all disputation by his explanation of casual origin- 
ation, without beginning and without ending, without per- 
manence and without impermanence, without sameness and 
without difference, without coming and without going.” This 
happens to be the first verse of Nagarjuna’s famous ‘‘ Madhy- 
amika-Karika,’’ written about the first century A.D. As luck 
would have it, I once spent six months for my sins in studying 
this work and its commentaries, so I decided to take this oppor- 
tunity of airing a few of the unintelligible polysyllables which 
I had learnt in this connection, interspersing quotations from 
Sanskrit and Chinese, neither of which could the poor man 
understand. In fact, the old gentleman, though deeply pious, 
had very little knowledge of the technicalities of his faith, and 
had asked for the interpretation largely as a joke, but I kept 
him on the paradoxical grill until his brain seemed nearly 
addled. 


BEFORE THE CITY MAGISTRATES 303 


_ The Tsongdu, or National Assembly, to which reference has 

been made, is a very important body, since in theory, at least, it 
has charge of the entire legislation of all Tibet. There are, in 
name at least, two assemblies. One is the Greater Assembly. 
This consists of representatives of all the monasteries, but, in 
point of fact, this Greater Assembly never meets except at very 
momentous times, and the conduct of affairs lies in the hands of 
the Lesser Assembly, the Tsongdu proper, a small and very 
exclusive, body, consisting of some twenty-odd persons whose 
most important members are the representatives of the 
three great Lhasa monasteries—Sera, Drepung, and Ganden. 
There are also representatives of the four royal lings and 
of the highest nobility, but every member is essentially a 
Lhasa man. 

This is in one way the weakness of the Tibetan Government. 
The higher officials, including the provincial Governors, are 
all chosen from families which may have estates all over 
the country, but are essentially Lhasa families, and the 
Parliament of Tibet is dominated by the local Lhasa 
monasteries. The peasants, and even the gentry and 
monasteries of other parts of Tibet, have no voice in the 
settling of affairs. — 

Nominally all matters of national importance must come 
before the National Assembly for its approval, as well as all 
matters, however trifling, relating to foreign policy, so that even 
the Dalai Lama, in spite of his divinity, is not absolute. At 
the same time, it is the Dalai Lama who is a judge of what 
constitutes a matter of national importance, and in his con- 
stant reaching after personal power, he and his Cabinet now 
frequently decide matters which by right should secure the 
approval of the legislative body. 

At the same time the Tsongdu is far from being a nonentity, 
and even in the last few years has frequently vetoed plans upon 
which the Dalai Lama had set his heart. 

Consisting as it does largely of monks, the Tsongdu is a very 
conservative and reactionary body, whose steady policy it has 
been to check the Dalai Lama and Tsarong Shapé in their 
efforts at reform and reorganization. 

The Tsongdu meets in a large room forming part of the 
Kashak wing of the cathedral. The shapés, or ministers of 


304 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


State, are not allowed to be actually present and take part in | 
the discussion, but they are allowed to be present in a small 
adjoining room, curtained off, where they can hear everything 
that is said: apart from the shapés, all meetings are held im 
camera. 


CHAPTER XXIV 
SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA 


AFTER my meeting with the Cabinet I returned to Sonam’s 
dwelling, there to await further developments. Three days 
later I obtained my first glimpse of the Dalai Lama. He was 
far too frightened to grant me a public audience lest it be made 
the basis of agitation against him, but his curiosity had been 
aroused, and he arranged for a secret interview, so secret, in 
fact, that even my servants and Sonam knew nothing about 
it. In the evening a messenger arrived and told me I was to 
accompany him to the Kashak, but after turning a corner I was 
led by him along another street which runs from the city of 
Lhasa to the great Potala palace. 

It was now dark, and it was, therefore, impossible for me to 
see much of where we were going, but after arriving at the 
village at the foot of the palace we entered a side-door of the 
sacred enclosure at the bottom of the hill. Though from a 
distance the Potala looks like a single, unified structure, it is 
really a cluster of many co-ordinated buildings and wings, 
used as residences for various officials, tombs, temples, and 
chapels, reception and ceremonial rooms; one wing is used as 
a training-school for officials. 

We climbed up the hill to the base of the Great Red Palace, 
the centre block of which dominates all the others, and which 
contains the more important chapels and reception-rooms, 
and which contains the private apartments of the Dalai Lama 
used by him when he resides in the Potala. 

On entering the Red Palace, and after going along a long 
passage, I stumbled up an interminable number of Tibetan 
step-ladder staircases until I found myself in a small room 
which was very near the top. Here I was suddenly left by 


U 395 


306 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


my attendant. At first I thought I was quite alone, but . 
looking closer through the gloom I saw, quietly waiting, 
one other person—no other person than the Dalai Lama 
himself. | 

I had quite a long talk with the living god of Tibet, but 
though it concerned itself only with general matters, I was 
forced to promise that I should keep the interview entirely 
secret. It was obvious that His Holiness was much frightened 
at the possible consequences of giving me an audience,.and later, 
when a crisis came, he denied having seen me and forced me to 
do the same. } 

While, however, it was impossible to record what was 
said, I can at least say something of the impression he made 
upon me. 

I found him to be a smallish man, lighter in build and with 
a face longer and more oval than most Tibetans. A childhood 
attack of smallpox has left slight traces upon his countenance, 
but these were almost invisible in the gloom. His head is 
shaven, as becomes a priest, but he has a long, pointed moustache 
which he learnt in India to wax. He is a man who is obviously 
accustomed to be regarded as a god, and who, moreover, has 
a firm belief in his own divinity, and yet there is a great quiet- 
ness, and even modesty, about his manner. He has not the 
delicate, half-mystical appearance which characterizes the 
Trashi Lama of Shigatsé. He is much more a man of the world, 
a careful observer of human nature, and a shrewd conjecturer 
of ulterior motives. His personal life is above suspicion. He 
is rigid in his celibacy and in his abstinence from wine and 
tobacco. His food is simple, and his dress on ordinary occa- 
sions scarcely to be distinguished from that of an ordinary 
monk. He prefers to reside as much as possible in his villa of 
Norbu Linga, another mile beyond the city, instead of living 
in state, attended with pomp and ceremony, in the Potala, 
one of the most magnificent palaces in the world. Yet he is 
obviously concerned with this world’s affairs. He is ambitious 
in a cool, calculating way, ever seeking to unify his power and 
to weaken opposition. 

In his youth his violent temper frequently led him to commit — 
some rash or foolish act, but the trials and tribulations of exile 
and deposition have taught him greater caution, one might 


ee ee 


; 
: 





HIS HOLINESS THE DALAI LAMA 
The Spiritual and Temporal Ruler of Tibet 





SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA _ 307 


. almost say craftiness. He is afraid to commit himself to a 
policy without seeing what its effect will be. He would be 
the last»person to claim occult powers for himself, and his 
intelligence is not gigantic. Fine points of metaphysics and 
theology he leaves to others, but he is possessed of a great deal 
of acumen and acuteness. Above all, he is blessed with the 
faculty of being able to choose wisely his human instruments. 
His most notable success along this line is Tsarong Shapé, and 
the wisest thing he ever did was to place in Tsarong’s hands 
much of the reorganization of the state. 

As is generally known, the office of the Dalai Lama is not 
hereditary, nor is this supreme ruler of Tibet elected by the 
will of the people. Rather is he chosen by a system which is 
unique in the Governments of the world. In theory the 
Dalai Lama is an incarnation of,the divinity Chenresi, and is 
also an immediate reincarnation of himself. Within a short 
time, varying from a few months to two years, after the death 
of this pontiff the supreme council of monks announces to the 
people the discovery of the new Dalai Lama. This new Dalai 
Lama may be an infant of a few weeks, or a child as old as two 
years, but in any case he must have been born subsequent to 
the death of the last Dalai Lama, whose soul is supposed to have 
transmigrated into the body of the infant. Sometimes, before 
the death of the old pontiff, the latter intimates to his council- 
lors that he will probably be born in this or that part of the 
country, or in this or that type of family. Such intimation, 
of course, simplifies matters for the councillors when the time 
comes to make the choice. But where no such intimation is 
given, or where there is a division of opinion among the 
councillors, recourse is made to divination in the way of the 
casting of lots. Not only is the Dalai Lama thus chosen to 
succeed himself as a new incarnate Buddha, but also other 
high ecclesiastics, particularly the abbots of many important 
monasteries throughout Mongolia and Tibet, are so elected. 
In the case of these less important lamas, however, the succes- 
sion generally follows regularly, and each incarnation attains 
to a ripe old age. But the Dalai Lamas have been much less 
fortunate. 

The first four supreme pontiffs were purely religious leaders 
and had no political significance, consequently they too had 


308 - TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the average duration of life. It was the fifth incarnation who . 
managed by the aid of the Tartars to make himself a temporal 
ruler of the country. Thereafter a great deal of political 
intrigue began to be bound up with the fortunes of each 
succeeding incarnation. 

After the death of the fifth Dalai Lama there were a number 
of irregular successions, with various rival claimants for the 
divine office, each supported by various factions. Eventually 
the Chinese Emperor was called in by one of the factions in order 
to establish their protégé on the throne, and at the same time 
to protect them from foreign invaders. The Chinese did 

_*estore order, but at the usual price, and in 1720. the Emperor 

Kangshi, of China, declared Tibet to be a vassal, even though 
autonomous, state and appointed two ambans, or political 
agents, to reside in Lhasa. Though nominally only diplomatic 
agents, these Chinese officials exercised a great deal of power, 
and from that date until 1912 Tibet was forced to recognize the 
suzerainty of China. | 

Thereafter the succession to the throne was regular but 
extremely rapid. The administration of power lay in the hands 
of a regent, who was in turn largely controlled by the ambans. 
The regent was supposed to hold office during the minority of 
the Dalai Lama, but practically no Dalai Lama was allowed 
to survive his minority. The limit of life for the last four 
Dalai Lamas has been eleven, eighteen, eighteen, and eighteen 
respectively. In other words, the boy Dalai Lamas have all 
been puppets in the hands of the priestly oligarchy which ruled 
the country. These all-powerful priests, fearing that an adult 
Dalai Lama might not always be sufficiently plastic in their 
hands, saw to it that the ‘‘ supreme ruler’”’ was called to a 
new incarnation when he reached the age of majority. 

The present Dalai Lama is the first one in over a century to 
escape this fate. He is a man of acumen and of great strength 
of character, as has previously been indicated. In no way has 
he manifested these characteristics more than in his supreme 
achievement, namely, escape from death up to his present age. 
The son of a peasant, his succession to the supreme rulership of 
Tibet was obviously dictated by political motives. At the time 
of his succession Tibet was much under the influence of China, 
and China did not wish the supreme rulership of Tibet to fall 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA 309 


. into the hands of one of the wealthy and powerful families of 
that country. Hence the choice of the peasant-boy for this 
office. » | 

This one-time peasant-boy is now a man over fifty, one who 
has succeeded in wresting to himself, as Dalai Lama, the power 
that for so long had been usurped by the oligarchy of monks. 
Suspecting, and doubtless learning from hearsay of the fate of 
his predecessors, the present Dalai Lama, when he approached 
the age of majority, studiously avoided eating food that was 
not first tasted by his attendants, and in other ways shrewdly 
escaped running into danger. 

On reaching the age of eighteen he insisted upon claiming the » 
power that was nominally his, and grudgingly this was granted 
to him. Emboldened by success and by the “ will of power,” 
as well as the “ will to live,” the present Dalai Lama embarked 
on his own responsibility upon a fearless, if somewhat indiscreet, 
foreign policy. His apparent over-friendliness for Russia and 
his overtures to that country succeeded in arousing the hostility 
of both Great Britain and China ; that of the former in particu- 
lar, of which the more or less direct consequence was the 
British Expedition under Colonel Younghusband into Tibet in 
1904. Upon the entrance of British troops into Tibet the Dalai 
Lama fled incontinently into Mongolia, from which country he 
later crossed over to China and lived for a time in Peking. In 
1908 he returned to Tibet, but was destined to remain there 
only about eighteen months before, ‘‘ on the wheel of things,” 
it became China’s turn to act the part of invader of Tibet and 
the turn of Great Britain—i.e. British India—to act the part 
of host, offering refuge to the fugitive. From Ig1o to 1912 
His Holiness remained in India. 

Since 1912, when, through the activity of Tsarong, the 
Chinese were ousted and the Dalai Lama returned to power in 
Lhasa, it has been the part of His Holiness to “‘ set his house in 
order.” It is a part for which, considering the many obstacles 
which have beset his path, he has shown unusual capacity. As 
the result of his activity, the present political situation in Tibet 
is one of unusual interest. 

The country is sharply divided into two actively-partisan 
groups. One is the Court Party, and is supported by a 
considerable portion of the lay nobility and of the peasantry. 


310 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


The other, represented by the so-called National Assembly, is . 
largely composed of the nominees of the. priests of the three 
large monasteries in the vicinity of Lhasa. Both these parties 
are largely autocratic, but the priestly party is by far the more 
reactionary. The Court party consists largely of persons who 
have dwelt long enough abroad to absorb new ideas, and is 
comparatively progressive. Incidentally, the Court party is 
pro-British, while the priestly party is strongly anti-British and 
pro-Chinese. At present there is no group which-has any 
especial regard for Russia. 

To-day the power of the Court party is gradually on the 
increase, but it is interesting to speculate upon what will take 
place upon the death of the present Dalai Lama. Will Tsarong 
seize the reins of government and declare himself king, as it is 
sometimes whispered may be the case, or will he, perhaps more 
astutely, be instrumental in tHe choice of an infant Dalai Lama 
of a type that can be moulded to his own point of view and way 
of thinking ? Or, will a very old prophecy be in reality fulfilled, 
namely, that the thirteenth Dalai Lama will be the last, and 


\ that after his death Tibet will be opened up to the “ white 


barbarians ”’ of the West, and the title Dalai Lama be but a 
memory of the past ? Easy to put the question, but who can 
answer ? My mind was dwelling on these things as I sat in 
amiable conversation with His Holiness. 

At the end of an hour I took my leave, and returned to Lhasa 
in the same stealthy way that I had come. 

The next morning the storm broke. I knew that after the 
news of my arrival had been communicated to so many persons 
it was impossible for it to remain long a secret. Rumours 
about me had been spreading for the last several days, and had 
eventually reached the ears of some of the more fanatical 
monks. Consequently, in the morning I saw quite a crowd 
collected under my window. This continued to swell in size, 
and by the afternoon had become turbulent. Two or three of 
the bolder spirits raised a howl and called on me to show 
myself, while others shrieked, “‘ Death to the foreigner.” 
Others then joined in, and a regular “‘ hymn of hate ’’ came up 
from below. Stones and sticks began to be thrown. Fortu- 
nately my flat was on the second floor and was very inaccessible ; 
but a few stones hit the window and the glass panes were 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA — 311 


. broken. As the mob had no firearms with them, I knew they 
could do little damage unless they could get inside the house. 
All houses in Lhasa are built round a courtyard. The ground 
floor is given over to stables and store-rooms, and has no door 
or window opening on the street except one great gate com- 
municating between the courtyard and outside. Staircases 
leading to the first and second floors are all inside the courtyard. 
As a precaution I had the great gate closed and barred, and 
prepared to hold a siege. The crowd pounded on the gate and 
strove to get in, but the great beams held firm. In other 
lands there might have been danger of their setting fire to the 
place, but in Tibet all houses are made of stone or sun-dried 
bricks and are not inflammable. There was the possibility 
that the other inhabitants of the house might prove treacherous, 
and by opening the gateway from within allow the crowd to 
enter; but though I placed two of my servants on guard at 
the gate, I had no great fear, as it was known that a mob was 
likely to do damage all round, and I felt that everyone else 
would have an interest in keeping the rabble out. 

It was rather thrilling to have a crowd outside howling for 
one’s blood, but though my servants were terribly frightened, 
it seemed likely, from what I saw, to prove a safe amusement. 
At the same time, if by any chance the mob were to effect an 
entry, things would develop into something far more serious, 
I knew and realised that it would be safer for me outside 
than inside, so I decided temporarily to take refuge in another 
part of the city. None of the mob had any idea of what 
I looked like, so I carefully renewed my disguise and with 
my servants slipped out by a small secret door in the back of 
the courtyard leading into another courtyard, and which in 
turn led into a small back street. 

I was determined to take refuge in the residence of a petty 
official who was friendly to me, but in passing it occurred to 
me that it would be rather thrilling to see from the outside 
something of the mob around my house. 

The crowd had its attention so fixed upon the spot where 
they thought I should be that they would never dream that 
their intended victim was standing amongst them. Therefore, 
on the way to my sanctuary, I made my way to the front of the 
house and stood for a few moments on the outskirts of the 


312 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


throng. Not to be outdone by the others, I occasionally let 
out a yell myself, and to make things very realistic picked up 
a small stone and threw it at my own window. ‘ 

I heard later that troops had been held in readiness to rush 
to my assistance in case the mob had got into the house, but 
this proved unnecessary. When darkness crept on and the 
time for dinner arrived, the crowd gradually melted away, and 
I returned to my own abode by the same way that I had left. 

During the next few days small groups of people gathered 
in front of the house, and occasionally made hostile demon- 
strations, but these never developed into anything serious, 
largely because it became known that I was under the protection 
of the Government. 

Nevertheless, guards were posted at the door as a precaution 
against any unforeseen eventuality, and the Government 
implored me not to leave the héuse during the remainder of the 
period that the monks continued in the city, lest I should be 
recognized and attacked on the streets. After the monks had 
left and the city had settled down to normal conditions all 
danger would be at anend. From February 27 until March 13 
I was practically a prisoner of State in the Forbidden City. 
But this period was far from unpleasant. 

In the first place the period of enforced rest did me a great 
deal of good physically. The illness which had come upon me 
while I was still on my way to Lhasa had continued, and I had 
been far from well ever since entering the city. The excite- 
ment of the first few days had done nothing to improve matters, 
and I was more than glad to have this OP DORA of quiet 
recuperation. 

The inflammation of the lungs brought about several 
hemorrhages, but the freedom from exposure and efficiency of 
sheepskin blankets led slowly to improvement, though the 
improvement proved very gradual. For some reason the 
coughing spells came much more frequently at night than in 
the daytime, and when I sat up the coughing was less severe 
than when I lay down. On many occasions I could only get 
a few hours’ rest by sleeping propped up in a sitting position. 

The dysentery proved even more troublesome. At first I 
thought of calling in some of the lamas from the famous 
Medical College on the Chakpo Hill opposite the Potala, for 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA _ 313 


. I knew that in addition to their chants they were in the habit 
of giving certain herbs to their patients. In many cases their 
herbs are quite fantastic and their drugs based on the magic 
pharmacopeceia of China, but for simpler troubles many of the 
herbs of the witch-doctors of primitive peoples are quite useful, 
and I ‘thought that some of their drugs might do me good and 
at the same time I might, in this way, see how the lama 
doctors of Tibet go about their work. But I was strongly 
advised not to call them in, as it was more than possible that 
they would administer some poison in place of medicine—this 
being the simplest method of getting me out of the way. 

The lama doctors of Tibet know nothing of modern Western 
methods. The groundwork of their medical theory is based on 
the ancient Indian system incorporated in medieval Buddhism, 
but this system has been somewhat modified by ideas taken 
from the Chinese pharmacopeceia. 

Considering the fact that the Tibetans are in the habit of 
cutting up the bodies of the dead, it is surprising how backward 
the Tibetan medical system is even regarding anatomy. No 
advantage seems to have been taken of the corpse-dissection to 
improve on the knowledge of the shape and functions of the 
internal organs. Elaborate anatomical charts are indeed 
prepared, but in these the heart of a woman is supposed to beat 
in the middle of her chest and that of a man on the left ; red 
blood circulates on the right-hand side of the body and yellow 
bile on the left. 

Surgery of a very primitive kind is practised, but entirely 
without reference to antiseptics, and many persons in Tibet die 
from blood-poisoning consequent on amputations. 

Crude and primitive as this Tibetan medical science is, it is 
very elaborate, and a man is supposed to study nearly ten years 
before he can master it—longer than the time required for a 
European medical degree—and many aspirants fail in their 
final medical examination. All told, there is less than one 
hundred qualified lama doctors anywhere in Tibet, and nearly 
all of these are resident in Lhasa. In the country districts 
an ordinary monk with a knowledge of ritual is considered 
sufficient to banish the disease-bringing demons. /Pneu- 
monia, venereal diseases, and smallpox are the scourges which 
are most rampant in Tibet. 


- 


314 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Some of the more simple and pious of my Lhasa friends 
became worried as the days went on and I showed no improve- 
ment, and wanted me to go in for the more ordinary Tibetan 
method of curing disease—the method used in the country 
where no doctors are to be found. This would necessitate 
calling in some priests, but as no drugs were to be administered, 
it was thought to be safe. 

_ According to this plan some priests were to perform three 
“rites on my behalf: one was the chanting of a famous meta- 
physical Buddhist work called the Prajna Paramita Sutra 
(Sher-chin), or the Discourse on the Transcendental Wisdom ; 
second was the offering of food and drink to various demons, 
genii, and guardian deities, to insure their good-will ; finally, in 
case these failed and I should grow worse, the monks should 
perform a ceremony called chi-lu, wherein a little crude image 
of myself wrapped in some of ‘my clothes should be offered to 
the gods of death with the idea that the gods could be deceived 
into taking this image instead of myself. 

_ Two other similar cures are recommended: one was to eat 


“~ some of the rilbu, or holy pills, which are prepared in somewhat 


different form all over Tibet. In nearly all cases they are round 
black balls about the size of marbles, made of barley-flour and 
containing the relic of past saints, or even something from the 
body of living incarnations. Needless to say, the Dalai Lama 
pills are considered particularly efficacious in curing diseases, 
and | was assured of a supply. 

The other means of conquering disease especially recom- 


_“ mended was to purchase some animal destined for slaughter 


and set him free. It is believed that illness comes as a 
punishment for past misdeeds, and the saving of life is so 
meritorious that it will counteract all past evil and therefore 
do away with the cause of disease. | 

I was destined, however, to receive medical assistance from 
quite anothersource. Knowing that I was ill, Tsarong promised 
to send me some English medicines that he had had especially 
imported from India, but on arrival they turned out to be a 
dozen boxes of very mouldy Beecham’s Pills, and three pounds 
of Epsom salts. Considering the crudity of Tibetan medicine, 
it might be thought that a person initiated into the mysteries of 
European medicine would find a very warm welcome in Tibet, 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA _ 315 


but the experience of the Europeanized doctors in Gyangtsé 
and Yatung prove that this is not necessarily the case. It 
was thought to be good propaganda policy by the Indian 
Government to have a European doctor stationed at Gyangtsé 
who could not only look after the health of the troops stationed 
there; but also attend to various Tibetan patients—and by 
curing them win the goodwill of the people. Conservative 
prejudice, however, has meant that in most cases Tibetans who 
fall ill will first call in their priests, and only when they have 
given up all hope of recovery, as a last resort, will a visit be 
paid to the English doctor. In many cases the disease has 
reached such an advanced stage by this time that it is 
impossible to effect a cure—and it is the European, of course, 
who gets the blame for the death of the patient, and so belief 
in the efficacy of European medicine 1 is a matter of slow growth. 

In my own case, what helped Ie more than any medicine was 
the fact that I could get proper food once more. Whereas in 
the country districts it was possible to secure only barley-flour, 
tea, and putrid meat, which for purpose of disguise I had to 
eat raw, in Lhasa the menu was much more varied. 

In the first place the Lhasa plains are so much more fertile 
than any other part that many more crops will grow there. 
Peas, potatoes, and walnuts, for example, are cultivated, and 
from the extreme east of Tibet come apples and dried apricots. 

The upper classes of Lhasa have been much affected by 
Chinese ideas, and many of their dishes are of Chinese origin. 

The most common dish of the aristocrats in Tibet is a broth 
called tukpa. This contains a vermicelli, or spaghetti, made of 
millet-flour, generally, and a mass of finely-chopped boiled 
meat. This might be called the staple dish, for a man will have 
seven or eight helpings of this and will, in between these help- 
ings, eat little bits from the various side-dishes—curried meat, 
turnips, white radishes, etc.—which are in front of him. 

Another very popular Lhasa dish, consumed in great quanti- 
ties by inhabitants of the capital, is momo, or meat dumplings. 
These are boiled pastry balls containing minced meat and 
onions, and generally flavoured with sa, a pungent wild vege- 
table, nearly as hot as chilli. There are a great many eating- 
shops which specialize in these momo, and they are usually 
crowded. 


316 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Even in Lhasa rice is not grown, and in any case the Tibetans 
have no use for it, but Lhasa contains many Bhutanese, 
Sikkimese, and Nepalese, who can never get fully accustomed 
to Tibetan barley, so for their benefit rice is brought on mules 
from over the passes. This means that rice is procurable in 
Lhasa, but it is very expensive. ; 

Most pleasing of all to me was the fact that one can get sweet- 
meats in Lhasa. The Chinese are very fond of various sweet, 
even though tasteless, cakes. They were even able to imbue 
the Tibetan nobles with a faint liking for these delicacies, and 
I was able to buy several boxes which had been specially 
imported from China. They were all old and mildewed, but 
they were better than nothing. 

Best of all, I was able to secure small quantities of sugar. 
The sugar was filthy and sold in tiny paper parcels containing 
only a teaspoonful of the précious stuff, and these packets 
cost a rupee (Is. 6d.) apiece, but so great was my yearning for 
something sweet after months of abstinence that I squandered 
a small fortune on these sugar packets. | 

To me the Chinese dishes, such as tukpa and momo, were 
scarcely more appetizing than native Tibetan food, but as 
raw materials were fairly abundant, and as there was no longer 
any necessity for secrecy or disguise, Lhaten was able to prepare 
for me a number of dishes for which my soul yearned. 

I found that living expenses were much higher in Lhasa than 
anywhere else in Tibet, but apart from sugar, rice, cakes, and 
other imported food, of course cheaper than in the outer world. 

It may be interesting to some to see my average household 
budget while I was in Lhasa. This does not include anything 
eaten by my servants. 


Fuel (yak-dung) 4 trangkas * 
Chicken (whole) ca 

Eggs. (four) ... .: Sees 
Milk (yak’s milk) 2 
Potatoes 4 
WEEN ene re >, sane 

Rice (handful) .. aid aie »” 
Sugar (three packets) .. 15 


* It should be remembered that 1 trangka is approximately equal to 3d. 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA _ 317 


A supply of this sort would last about two days—which 
shows that I did not stint myself after my long experience of 
half-starvation. 

I was afraid that the long weeks of my imprisonment were 
going to prove very tedious, but the time was made interesting 
in a dumber of different ways. 

In the first place, during this New Year period there was a 
large number of pageants, ceremonies, and processions, and as 
many of these took place in the market-place underneath my 
windows I was able to get an excellent view of them. 

More particularly did three of these affairs make a vivid 
impression upon my mind. The first of these took place on 
March 3, which was the fifteenth day of the first Tibetan 
month, and as the Tibetans have a lunar calendar, the night 
of every fifteenth is always marked by the full moon. 

The afternoon of this day wds marked by feverish activity. 
Labourers were busy erecting great booths all around the 
Inner Circle. These booths were very imposing structures, 
many of them over 50 feet high. They were supported by 
huge wooden poles stuck into the ground, but the body con- 
sisted of canvas or cloth cut in various geometrical designs, 
each of special symbolic significance. This canvas was either 
painted, or more commonly decorated with stained butter, 
and frequently inlaid with elaborate and beautifully-carved 
butter images. 

Before these great cloth structures wooden altar-tables were 
placed, and on these were put large numbers of brass lamps 
filled with butter, which were lighted once dusk had fallen. 

At about seven o’clock the Dalai Lama and all the great 
officials of State made a solemn procession lit by torches around 
the Inner Circle, followed by thousands of pilgrims. To the 
Tibetans it was a most solemn and sacred affair, and even to 
the outsider really very imposing, but a humorously-incon- 
gruous touch was added by a large body of troops from the new 
army which Tsarong is training along strictly European lines, 
who went before and after the Dalai Lama as a bodyguard. 

The officials and the high-priests were dressed in their 
medizval costumes, while the soldiers wore British uniforms 
and were armed with modern rifles. To make matters more 
incongruous, at the most solemn and sacred moment in the 


318 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


whole procession the regimental band struck up “ Should a 
Body Kiss a Body comin’ through the Rye ? ”’ 

The lamps were kept alight and large bodies of pilgrims 
continued to circumambulate the central square all through the 
night, but at the first sign of dawn the lamps were extinguished 
and the structures quickly dismantled, and by eight o'clock 
in the morning there was no trace of them. Considering 
the great laziness and slowness of the Tibetans on one hand, 
and the great size of the ceremonial booths on the other, it was 
really remarkable with what speed they were wrecked and 
pulled down. 

This full-moon ceremony had its origin in the great Kumbum 
Monastery which lies at the extreme north-east of Tibet, a 
part still controlled by China. This monastery was the early 
field of labour of the great Tibetan reformer Tsong Kapa, the 
founder of the yellow-hat sect,“vho brought this festival with 
him to Lhasa. 

There must have been over a hundred booths in all at this 
Lhasa festival. It is the duty of each monastery in the 
neighbourhood and of each of the great aristocratic and 
official families to erect and attend to one. This duty entails 
a heavy expense, and there was a tendency a few years ago to 
neglect this obligation as far as possible, and at any rate to 
demolish the booths early in the evening ; but in spite of this 
great modernity in some respects, the Dalai Lama is a great 
stickler for the strict observance of all religious ceremonial, 
and has forced the people to erect the booths in the old elaborate 
manner. 

The second important procession did not take place until 
the 12th of March. This was even more military in tone. In 
fact it was the ceremonial procession of the old national guard 
of Tibet. In the old days, before the new army had been 
created, it was the duty of each of the great families and the 
important monasteries to provide and equip a number of 
soldiers who could be called upon for service in case of 
emergency or war. 

In spite of the new army, this old territorial army organiza- 
tion continues to exist. A quainter procession could scarcely 
be imagined. There were three main groups, one armed with 
bows and arrows, one with spears, and one with guns—but 


C 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAT LAMA _ 319 


_ such guns! They were all muzzle-loaders, of old seventeenth- 
or, at latest, eighteenth-century design, top-heavy, lop-sided, 
but wonderfully inlaid and decorated. Any one of them 
would have found a place of honour in an historical museum. 
To add to the impressiveness of the occasion these ancient 
muskets were loaded with blank cartridges, and, on being 
fired, caused a deafening din. Nearly all the soldiers were in 
full armour of well-worked iron, reminding one somewhat of 
the old armour of Japan. They wore curious round, basket- 
like shields, and had feathers in their helmets. Even the horses 
of the mounted soldiers were encased in armour. Three times 
this fantastic army went in procession around the Inner Circle, 
and then marched away to the open plains to carry out their 
tactics. 

The next great pageant took place only the next day 
(March 13). This was more definitely religious, being a festival 
in honour of the Blessed Maitreya, the coming saviour of the 
world. An image of the saint was carried around on the one 
wheeled vehicle of Tibet, a curious, clumsy cart. Why in the 
world the Tibetans have never gone in for carts I cannot 
imagine, as the open plains are admirably suited for wheeled 
traffic, but even the Dalai and Trashi Lamas are content to go 
about in a palanquin, a privilege shared only by the abbess 
of Samding Monastery, and everyone else must walk or ride 
on horse- or mule-back. Even the image-bearing carriage of 
Lhasa was pulled by men. Behind the cart marched in proces- 
sion the glories of Lhasa, two real live elephants from Nepal, 
both of them presents to the Dalai Lama. Very fine, but very 
useless, presents they are, for neither the Dalai Lama nor any 
other Tibetan would dare ride on them, and even their keepers, 
or mahouts, have to be Nepalese, as no Tibetan would take 
on the job. 

Behind the elephants came three great dummy animals 
made out of cloth, very ingeniously designed and coloured. 
They were of great size and each contained several men. They 
represented the yak, the tiger, and the elephant. 

Small boys played a very important part in this procession. 
I rather-wondered at this until I was told the reason, which 
is certainly very curious. According to ancient Indian cosmo- 
logy the stature and the span of life of mankind are not 


320 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


changeless, but undergo cycles of decrease and increase. At the 
zenith of human glory every man is a giant, and the average 
duration of life is 80,000 years, but gradually degeneration sets 
in. Stature and life-span decrease until all human beings are 
dwarfs and live for only ten years. After this comes a cycle of 
increase when man goes back to his original size and duration of 
life, but just at present, according to the Hindus and Buddhists, 
mankind is on the downgrade. Every century man’s life 
and size steadily, even though imperceptibly, decrease. The 
average life is already less than a hundred years, and the average 
stature less than 6 feet, and this degeneration will continue for 
many centuries to come. But when the nadir is reached, 
Maitreya, the compassionate saviour, will arise. The boys in 
the procession, therefore, represent what all human beings will 
look like in the era of the future Buddha. 

In addition to the processiors, the tediousness of my prisoner- 
ship was also relieved by reading. By sending Lhaten out into 
the market I managed to procure a good supply of Tibetan 
books. These were, of course, of the usual sort, printed not 
with movable type, but from carved-out wooden blocks on very 
coarse paper. In many cases the print was insufferably bad, 
the whole page being but a black smudge. But this is quite 
understandable. Most of the peasant pilgrims who come to 
Lhasa like to buy a few religious books. To be possessed of 
holy writings is to acquire merit. It is quite unnecessary that 
they be read, and as they are not to be read why should 
they be well printed ? 

I told Lhaten to buy for me two groups of books, one being 
those which were most popular amongst the laity, and the other 
which were most popular amongst the priests, and in due course 
he brought me back some fifty or sixty volumes. The books 
bought by the laity were largely trash—confessions of sins to 
the Buddhas of the past, recitation of charms for protection 
from evil, danger, and sickness, and an occasional biography 
of a Dalai Lama or other saint. 

Among the books which were most popular with the ordinary 


_~monks were three works of considerable interest. 


The first of these was the Domang (lit. ‘“‘ Many Sutras ’’), a 
selection of the most popular short discourses from the great 
‘“ Kangyur ”’ collection. This book is a gold-mine to the priest 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA _ 321 


_ in Tibet, as he will be well paid for reciting or chanting various 
portions of this book for the benefit of private patrons. The 
whole “ Kangyur”’ is far too bulky to be portable, but the 
Domang can be carried wherever custom calls. The whole 
“-Kangyur ”’ contains much that is really beautiful and much 
that is’really silly—and unfortunately the selections contained 
in the Domang are nearly all of the silly class—-magic charms 
and incantations for winning the protection of gods and 
demons. , 

The second work was the collected poems of the great Tibetan 
saint Milarepa (spelled Milaraspa). He might be called the : 
Tibetan St. Francis. A wandering ascetic vowed to poverty, 
and clad only in a cotton robe, he composed many religious 
poems, some of which show high artistic merit. Amongst many 
magical and mythological puerilities there are very vivid 
descriptions of land and of people, though the whole tone of 
his poems is to declare the nothingness of all phenomenal 
existence. 

The third book was Lam-chen, or Lamrin-chempo, ‘‘ The 
Stages,” or “‘ The Great Path ”’ (to Salvation). This is a very 
important work by Tsong Kapa, the founder of the established 
Church of Tibet, and professes to be a manual that will guide 
the disciple along the path that leads to ultimate emancipation ; 
but it contains many discussions of the philosophic foundations 
of Buddhism and gives us an excellent insight into theoretical 
as opposed to practical Tibetan Buddhism—Buddhism as it is 
supposed to be rather than what it is. 

Most of my time was spent in wandering through the dull, 
dry pages of Tibetan religious literature, but occasionally I was 
able to relax my mind by reading two newspapers published in 
English! These were subscribed to by Sonam as a means of 
keeping up the English he had learned in Kalimpong. Both 
papers were published in India, by and for Indians, and though 
printed in English, were decidedly anti-English and pro-Home 
Rule. One was the Bengalee, moderate in tone, of considerable 
literary merit, and was most persuasive in its arguments. The 
other was the Amrita Bazar Patrika, a most violently seditious 
rag full of scurrilous abuse. It is certainly a token of the great 
Liberalism of the Indian Government that it allows such a 
revolutionary paper to be published, 

: 


322 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


It was rather funny that it is these two papers which repre- 
sent English literature in Lhasa. Even Sonam was rather 
ashamed of the Amrita Bazar Patrika and tried to hide it from 
me, though in the end I managed to get hold of it. 

Formerly, I was told, the Dalai Lama himself subscribed to 
the Statesman and the Englishman, two real English jéurnals 
published in Calcutta, but as he was unable to read a word of 
them, the subscription was stopped after a while. 

The Dalai Lama is also possessed of two or three. books in 
English about Tibet, and he has had portions of these translated 
for his benefit, but he takes very much to heart the criticisms 
which have been made regarding his people and their civiliza- 
tion. The Japanese priest Kawaguchi, who managed to get to ~ 
Lhasa in disguise, won his intense dislike on account of a 
criticism of the character of Padma Sambhava, the wine- 
bibbing and sensual founder of Lamaism. I sometimes wonder 
what he will think of some of my own remarks about Tibet ! 

The Tibetan officials in Yatung and Gyangtsé, who are more 
in touch with the outside world, sometimes forward to Lhasa 
foreign comments on Tibetan affairs, and a certain English 
official who was in Tibet made himself very unpopular with 
the Lhasa Court on account of an article he wrote in a Calcutta 
newspaper of the filthiness of the town of Pari. Apart from 
the highest Court and official circles, however, Lhasa remains 
in complete ignorance of the outside world, and is completely 
unconcerned with what this outside world may think or say 
of it. 

Perhaps the most interesting interludes in my prisoner’s life 
were the frequent visits paid me by various Lhasa people. 
Through Sonam and Tsarong, a number of persons were 
induced to come and see me so as to relieve the monotony. 

Among my visitors were a number of priests of a more 
liberal turn of mind than the average, who, hearing of my 
interest in the study of their religion, came to talk with me. 
To one dear old man I became especially attached, and he 
came frequently and stayed for hours each time, consuming 
incredible quantities of buttered tea, discussing the fine points 
of Buddhist metaphysics. 

Although completely ignorant of all Western learning—to 
him European religion, philosophy, and science were closed 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA 323 


, books—he was a man of great learning from the medieval 
Tibetan standpoint. His learning was exactly like that of the 
school-men of the Middle Ages. His geography was delightfully 
vague. To him the world was a cylinder and the sun and moon 
but tiny satellites which revolve round it, but for him such 
concrete material things were of little or no importance, for 


he was interested in the subtleties of being and non-being, the «- 


nature of substance and the inherence of attributes, and on 
these points his knowledge and his views were profound. 

_ But with all his learning, he was as simple as a child, charming 
and naive and possessed of an old-world courtesy ; sorrowing 
over the wickedness of the world, he was full of an unsophisti- 
cated piety that would have put half the saints of all religions 
to shame. 

At first he talked of lesser things, of the wheel of life, to which 
sentient beings, blinded by lus? and ignorance, are attached, 
going round and round the cycle of transmigrations until the 
power of wisdom and purity sets them free. 

But life and the wheel of life all belonged to the sphere of 
phenomena, and there would follow long talks on the nature 
and the ultimate reality of the phenomenal world, and here 
would be expounded and criticized the views of the three main 
schools of Buddhist philosophy—the Sarvastivadins, who were 
realists; the Yogacarins, who were idealists; and the 
Madhyamikas, who were transcendentalists. To make the 
discussion a little more lively, I professed to take the part of 
the idealists against the transcendental position of my teacher, 
and the old man would grow enthusiastic in showing me the 
shallowness of my views, and would come again every two or 
three days with fresh arguments and new illustrations. 

Weighty texts were needed to clinch a discussion, and the 
delightful old philosopher gave to me, his new-found pupil, 
many precious manuscripts of the writings of ancient saints 
and scholars, Indian and Tibetan. These were indeed priceless 
gifts. I had come to Tibet largely in order to procure such 
things, and in this way I came into possession of many works 
that were otherwise unobtainable. 

Printed books I also secured now in large numbers. The 
more metaphysical and philosophical books are never kept in 
stock in the bookshops, but the old scholar managed tq get 


Pog 


rs 


324 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


several printed off for me. The wooden blocks for such books 
are kept in some of the larger monasteries, and when one wants 
a copy of a book one must bring one’s own paper«to the 
monastery, and for a small cost the monastery official will have 
the paper stamped with the proper blocks, but as I was a 
prisoner the old man arranged everything for me. : 

This old priest was one of the most delightful men it was 
ever my privilege to meet anywhere in the world. His charm 
and the genuineness of the winning simplicity of his character 
were in most vivid contrast to the ignorance and boorishness 
of the average Tibetan monk; but I was to find that such 
characters as his are occasionally to be found even in the great 
Lhasa monasteries, more particularly among the small group 
of monks who have won the coveted Geshé, or Doctor of 
Divinity degree. : 

This degree is the goal of every monk in Tibet, but there are 
very few who acquire it, as in nearly all cases it requires twenty 
years of study and vast textual knowledge to pass the necessary 
examinations, and in spite of the thousands of monks, I do not 
suppose there are more than a hundred real Geshés in the whole 
of Tibet. 

The Geshé rank is the highest of five stages in the career of 
Tibetan monk. When as a boy he enters the monastery he is 
merely a novice, or an acolyte. After he has learned to read 
and write and has memorized a few pages of ritualistic texts 
he will gain the rank of Genyé. This is the equivalent to the 
title Upasakha which in other Buddhist countries is given to 
pious laymen who never enter the monkhood, but who are 
known by their devotion and charity to the order. But in 
Tibet the laity may not even have this dignity, which has 
become a preparatory stage in the priesthood. 

Further study and a further examination brings the rank 
of Ge-tsii (or Ge-tsul), which in other countries is equivalent 
to the novitiate, but in Tibet is a further stage in the hierarchy. 
Particularly in the provincial monasteries, many monks never 
rise higher than this stage, and a monk of this rank is allowed 
to take part in most religious ceremonies. 

Another set of examinations and suitable presents to the 
monastery officials leads to the rank of Gelong, the full-fledged 
monk or priest, capable of performing all ceremonies, and 


SECRET MEETING WITH DALAI LAMA 325 


, eligible for practically all the offices, elective and nominative, 
in the monastery. This is as high as the vast majority of the 
monks ever go. 

Finally come the few Wi devote themselves to a life of study, 
and who, having passed a strict examination and also success- 
fully rthaintained a thesis in the public disputations, are given 
the title of Geshé. There are also one or two other scholastic 
titles. Theoretically, it is only a monk with the rank of Geshé 


who can be appointed the kem#o (khanfo), or abbot, of a monas- vw” | 


tery—i.e. of a monastery which has an appointed abbot and not 
a reincarnating divinity at its head. So many abbots of the 
larger monasteries, however, are reincarnations, chosen by lot 
as children, that there are comparatively few very high posts 
open to a young, ambitious and studious monk who has no 

_ family influence to back him in his social climb. There are, 
however, two very high ecclesiastical posts supposed to be 
filled on the merit basis alone. One is the Chikyap Kempo, or 
Abbot-General, the chief official in the ecclesiastical Court of 
the Dalai Lama. This, however, is largely a political and 
diplomatic post designed to keep the Dalai Lama in touch with 
the great monasteries. A new appointment was made to this 
office while I was in Lhasa, the man chosen being a representa- 
tive of the great aristocratic Pala family which at one time. 
underwent a great deal of persecution on account of its friend- 
liness towards the British authorities. 

The other merit post is that of Ti-rimpoché, the Abbot of 
Ganden Monastery, the third of the great trio of monasteries. 
Ganden, being the farthest removed from the political intrigues 
of Lhasa, has the reputation of having the greatest learning, 
and the Ti-rimpoché is supposed to be the greatest scholar in 
the country. Curiously enough, he is usually appointed from 


among the chief scholars of the other monasteries. Most of the .- 


Geshés are really learned men, though, unlike my beloved 
preceptor, their scholarship is usually more of the letter than of 
the spirit. They are loaded down with a verbal knowledge of 
the scriptural texts without the slightest idea of what they 
mean. But they are the only ones who have any real know- 
ledge of the doctrines of Buddhism. I was surprised at the 
colossal ignorance of the average monk—ignorance concerning 
his own religion. This was the more surprising considering 


rod 


326 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


the examinations they are supposed to have undergone. Very , 
few of them could give any clear exposition of what Buddhism 
really teaches. They could only repeat a large number of 
incantations. 

A great many monks in the three great monasteries fail in all 
their examinations and become what is known as fighting 
monks—dok-dokpa, or temple guardians. They smear their 
faces with black grease and spend most of their time in brawling. 
It is their number and influence which have given these 
monasteries their current reputation for rowdiness.* 


* T have decided not to bore my readers with any discussion of my researches into 
Tibetan Buddhism. This subject will be handled in a subsequent and more technical 
work. For a treatment in Buddhist philosophy in general see my Introduction to 
Mahayana Buddhism and Manual of Buddhist Philosophy. 


CHAPTER XXV 
MODERNISING LHASA 


KyipuP, the boy educated in England, continued to visit me 
quite frequently, and both he and Sonam gave me much 
interesting information concerning the new Tibetan Post-Office. 

From very early times Tibet has been possessed of a Govern- 

ment courier service—with relays of ponies carrying messengers 
from the capital to the most distant provinces. These 
messengers were supposed to carry only Government dispatches, 
but in some cases they could be bribed to deliver private letters 
as well. During the great reforms of the last few years the 
Government has sought to transform this old courier service 
into a regular postal service, whereby the carrying of 
private letters and even packets is legalized. Up to the present 
time only twelve post-offices have been opened, the principal 
places being Lhasa, Shigatsé, Gyangtsé, Pari, and various 
intermediary points. These places are in the centre of Tibet, 
and the outer provinces are still covered_only by the old 
courier system. } , 
_ The mails are carried from place to place entirely by pony 
relays, but on the whole the service is swift. Gyangtsé lies 
some 150 miles away from Lhasa, and letters come through in 
about two and a half days. 

The Tibetans have printed a very interesting collection of 
stamps, and the postal system is supposed to work exactly on 
the European scale, but much more frequently letters go 
through as the result of a small present to the postman than as 
a result of bearing a stamp. | 

Tibet is not, of course, a member of the postal union, and 
there is no direct postal connection between Lhasa and the 
outside world, but there is a British post-office in the fort of 


327 


328 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Gyangtsé, and there is a Tibetan post-office in the same city, 
and provided that one has a friend in Gyangtsé to transfer 
letters from one post-office to the other, it is possible tosend to 
and receive letters from England and America while in Lhasa. 

I was lucky enough to be able to make the necessary arrange- 
ments, and so was able once or twice to secure longed-for 
bundles of letters from home which were waiting for me in 
Darjeeling—but, alas! amongst them were very urgent notices 
that my current income-tax was unpaid and information as to 
what was going to happen to me in case I did not pay up in ten 
days. 

An even more striking instance of the new order of things in 
Tibet, rendered all the more striking because of the continuance 
of the old right alongside of it, is the telegraphic outfit which 
has been installed in the last two years. To be sure, the tele- 
graph line only runs between Lhasa and Gyangtsé—150 miles 
—and is very crude, very childish and amateurish, but a real 
telegraph system it is. It breaks down every two or three 
weeks, but it is soon repaired, and as many as five telegraphic 
messages are sent over it every week! By means of the British- 
Indian telegraphic outpost at Gyangtsé it is thus possible for 
one to be in almost immediate touch with the outside world, 
while living in the most isolated and exclusive city in the 
world. 

I was interested to learn that the telegraph had been erected 
by an executive order of the Cabinet, largely as the result of 
Tsarong’s influence and without the National Assembly being 
consulted. Needless to say, this reactionary body was very 
indignant at the new innovation ; but it was even more inter- 
esting to know that this modern invention was used to help in 
trying to keep me—a foreigner—out. It was over the tele- 
graph that the news came that I was thought to be in Tibet in 
disguise, and it was over the telegraph that the orders had gone 
out to the local officials that search be made for me so that I 
could be turned back. 

One of the most interesting of my visitors was a man called 
Champela. He has had rather an interesting experience. 
Although of pure Tibetan extraction, he spent his boyhood in 
Darjeeling and became thoroughly acquainted with the 
English language and customs. Owing to his brightness he 


MODERNISING LHASA 329 


was given a good post ina bank. Then something went wrong, 
accounts could not be squared—and Champela, knowing that 
extradition laws do not apply in Tibet, fled to Lhasa, where he 
found Government employment on account of his knowledge 
of foreign customs. He incidentally became official translator 
and ifterpreter to the Government when at length it became 
necessary for someone in Lhasa to know English. 

Year after year he has remained in Lhasa, always desiring 
to return to Darjeeling, but the fear of prison kept him away. 
A year or two ago, through the magnanimous clemency of Sir 
Charles Bell, he received a pardon for the long-ago-committed 
and half-forgotten crime, but he is now an old man, terrified 
by the thought of the long journey back to India, and so his 
departure is postponed month after month, and will probably 
be postponed year after year until he dies still planning his 
return to the place of his boyhodd. 

The younger brother of Champela, called Karma Suburm, had 
been my Tibetan teacher in Darjeeling. I had found him a 
man of unusual intelligence, one of the few Orientals capable 
of teaching his own language, and so in spite of past deeds I 
had looked forward to meeting Champela, and I was not 
disappointed. A mild, meek, humorous little man he was, 
who had led the most upright of lives since the crash of his 
youth. He was one of the most genuinely kindly of men I 
have ever met. His numerous acts of courtesy made my stay 
in Lhasa doubly pleasant. At the same time he was one of 
the few men in Lhasa, apart from Tsarong, who took an 
intelligent interest in the public affairs of his own country and 
who was full of reliable information. It was surprising to 
find how few Tibetans, even officials, had any idea as to the 
details of the country’s administration, and in many cases, 
when I had sought everywhere else for information, I had in 
the end to go to Champela to secure what I wanted. 

Two or three of the things he said were worth recording. 
I was amused to find out from him particulars of the large 
number of letters which the Dalai Lama receives from private 
persons in England and America. For the most part such 
persons assure His Holiness of their rigid adherence to his 
creed, their acceptance of his divinity, and their knowledge of 
the fact that he is a Mahatma, one of the great hidden 


330 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


personalities who direct the course of evolution all over the 
world. The writer then adds that, as he is different from 
the average materialistic Westerner, he would be pleased if 
the Dalai Lama would permit him to come to Lhasa and 
study the ultimate mysteries in the home of the secret 
doctrine. In some cases the writer backs up his plea by 
stating that he met His Holiness during the latter’s stay in 
Peking or Darjeeling. 

It is the duty of Champela to translate all such letters into 
Tibetan, and they are duly read by the Dalai Lama, but no 
reply, not even an official acknowledgment, is ever vouchsafed. 
They are merely stored away and forgotten. 

A similar fate used to attend official communications— 
letters sent by representatives of the Indian Government ; the 
Younghusband Expedition had as its proximate cause the fact 
that a letter from the ViceroY was returned unopened. But 
the humiliation of Tibet as a result of that expedition taught 
the Dalai Lama a lesson. More particularly has the effort of 
his Government to maintain the independence won from China 
in 1912 taught him to seek support from India, and to-day all 
communications sent by the Indian Government, usually 
through the Political Officer in Sikkim, receive prompt atten- 
tion, and a courteous, even though sometimes evasive, answer 
is very promptly dispatched. 7 

I was glad to learn from Champela something more concern- 
ing the relationship between the Dalai and the Trashi Lama. 
Politically the power of the Dalai Lama far overshadows that 
of his colleague in Shigatsé, but religiously the potentates are 
supposed to rank as equals. I had always supposed that for 
this reason it was always found more convenient for the two 
highest incarnations of divinity in Tibet never to meet, but it 
seems that interviews between the two do occasionally take 
place. Only two years previously the Trasha Lama had. paid 
a State visit to Lhasa and had been entertained by the Dalai 
Lama. 

Tibetan etiquette has it that though the two rulers are 
equal as touching their divinity, yet they take precedence over 
one another in respect to their seniority as regards the flesh. 
As the present Dalai Lama is a few years older than the 
present Trashi Lama, the Lhasa ruler is able to lord it over his 


ee 


| 


MODERNISING LHASA 331 


rival. This is probably one reason why the Trashi Lama was 
invited to Lhasa. 

It i8 the duty of the Dalai Lamas to consecrate new Trashi 
Lamas, and of the Trashi Lamas to consecrate new Dalai 
Lamas, and supposedly all is goodwill and love between them. 
Actually, however, there is always bitter rivalry between the 
two Courts, and in the present instance the Dalai Lama has a 
strong sense of animosity against the Trashi Lama on account 
of certain events of the last few years. It is well known that 
personally the Trashi Lama is a dreamer, a religious recluse 
who takes little interest in political affairs. But no doubt 
just for this reason he has been made a cat’s-paw for other 
interested parties. 

In 1904, when the Dalai Lama, as a result of the Young- 
husband Expedition, fled to Mongolia, the Chinese officials 
resident in Lhasa declared hirh deposed and pronounced the 
Trashi Lama the supreme ruler of the country. In spite of 
this fact, the Dalai Lama managed, by further negotiations 
with the Peking authorities direct, to come back to Lhasa in 
triumph, and the Trashi Lama sank back to second place. 
But in 1910 the Chinese officials discovered the Dalai Lama 
was not subservient enough to suit them, so a Chinese army 
invaded the country, as has been previously related, and when 
the Dalai Lama fled to India he was once more declared 
deposed, and stripped of his divinity in favour of the Trashi 
Lama, who, though nominally the supreme ruler possessed of 
all the privileges enjoyed by the Dalai Lama, was but a mere 
puppet. 

The Tibetan rebellion of 1912, which brought independence 
from China, meant also the return of the Dalai Lama, and the 
Trashi Lama only too willingly gave back the seals of office ; 
but the Dalai Lama has never forgiven the usurpation of his 
power by his Shigatsé rival, and has ever since subjected him 
to various minor persecutions. 

These were borne for many years with great patience, but 
quite recently, since my return from Tibet, the news has come 
through that at last the Trashi Lama has sought refuge in flight, 
escaping either to Mongolia or China, probably the latter. 

This will very likely mean further trouble in the future. 
The Chinese have never resigned their claims to suzerainty over 


a* 


3." 


332 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Tibet, and have resolutely refused to admit the claims of the 
Dalai Lama Government. They have only been waiting for a 
favourable opportunity to attempt once more to overrun the 
country. The Trashi Lama will be a valuable puppet in their 
hands. They will be able to claim they invade Tibet only in 
order to restore the Shigatsé potentate to his rightful position, 
and the Trashi Lama has many devout adherents throughout 
thecountry. The Dalai Lama will have to look out for treachery 
from within as well as prepare against invasion from abroad ; 
more particularly as the great modernist and Europeanizing 
tendency of the Dalai Lama’s Court as at present constituted 
and its friendship with the Indian Government have won the 
ill-will of many monks even inside the Lhasa monasteries— 
Drepung particularly has always been pro-Chinese—so that we 
can see, in spite of the present calm, Tibet is full of the 
seeds of unrest. ‘ 

Incidentally it may be added that it is almost certain that the 
Indian Government will continue its policy, pursued for several 
years past, of favouring the Dalai Lama at the expense of the 
Trashi Lama. 

Two or three young tsipén, or Treasury officials, also came to 
see me, and from them I learned that the Tibetan Government 
also had its financial embarrassments. 

The trouble is that most of the Government officials become 
very wealthy, while the Government remains very poor. 
Nominally the officials of every rank receive only a tiny salary, 
on the theory that as all the officials are chosen from the very 
wealthy families they do not require large emolument, but will 
be willing to donate their services to the State. But in point 
of fact the salary is the smallest portion of the income from any 
post. The acceptance of bribes, or “‘ squeeze,’’ is the openly- 
recognized order of the day, and a great deal of money that 
should really go into the Government coffers as taxes finds its 
way into the private pockets of the officials. When even this 
proves insufficient, an official can generally secure a grant of 
land from the Government which brings in quite a tidy income. 

The Governors of the fifty-three provinces into which Tibet 
is divided levy a family-tax and a land-tax—the land-tax being 
usually collected in kind, consisting of a varying percentage of 
the crop—but very little of the money raised in this way is ever 


ee 


al 


MODERNISING LHASA 333 


, available for the needs of the Central Government, for not only 
is much of the land owned by the monasteries free from taxa- 
tion, but out of the tax-money the Government is forced to 
grant a small annual subsidy to the monks of the great Lhasa 
monasteries. | 

_ A good deal of the cash for the current purposes of the Lhasa 
Government comes from three other sources: a tax on wool, a 
tax on salt, both levied according to quantity, and finally the 
profits from the Mint. The Tibetans have found their Mint 
a very paying proposition, owing to the debased coinage which 
they issue and force the people to accept. In addition to the 
more common copper coins, none of which is worth its face 
value, a number of silver coins used to be issued: a I-trangka 
coin, a coin worth 34 trangkas, a coin worth 62 trangkas, as well 
as a gold coin worth 1334 trangkas ; but with the march of 
civilization the Tibetans—or rather Tsarong Shapé, who is - 
Master of the Mint—has found that it is cheaper to print paper 
money than to issue silver coins, and so now Tibet has also a 
paper currency with notes of Io, 15, and 25 trangkas. No 
wonder that in place of the old single Mint Tibet has now three 
Mints, and is establishing a fourth in the Chumbi Valley! One 
can guess to what lengths this debasement of the currency may 
go on before it results in a financial smash. 

Tsarong no doubt sees this danger, and is trying to strengthen 

‘the financial standing of the Government by a very bold move. 

This is no other than a law to force the lands owned by the 
monasteries and the privileged nobility to pay their fair share 
of the taxes. The great aristocratic families have been accumu- 
lating wealth for many centuries past, storing it up in their 
hidden treasuries. Tsarong is very keen to institute a levy on 
this idle capital, and also to establish the equivalent of a sliding- 
scale income tax. How depressing it is to feel that even in far- 
off Tibet one is not free from the dominating financial slogans 
of the day. 

Tsarong is naturally very keen on increasing the taxes, as his 
new army, created since 1912, demands a great deal of money. 
A number of the reforms which he is proposing will also require 
a large amount of fresh capital. 

The treasury and income of the Dalai Lama is, of course, kept 
quite apart from that of the State. In addition to privately- 


@ 
fee 


334 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


owned lands and other sources of steady income, the Dalai 
Lama is annually in receipt of many valuable presents of great 
financial worth in the form of free-will offerings. His‘ yearly 
income, therefore, is, and has been for a long time, greatly in 
excess of his expenditure. The Tibetans have no conception 
of investing their money. Their only way of saving it‘is by 
hiding it in the ground. Consequently, year after year, large 
sums of money are added to the great pontifical treasury 
in the heart of the hill on which the Potala is built. By all 
accounts the hidden coffers of the palace must constitute a 
veritable treasure-hoard. Each year the stock is added to, and 
there is a great prejudice against taking anything out. The only 
record of any diminution of this supply was in Ig1o, when the 
Dalai Lama fled to India, taking with him sufficient money to 
last for many years of exile. But since his return the money 
has been more than replaced.‘ 

There was a great deal of excitement in Lhasa during the 
early part of my stay there, over a fire which broke out in the 
Potala. By a curious coincidence, I had been asking about 
fires in Lhasa only a short time before the conflagration, and 
though the Potala was a mile away and I was known to be in 
Sonam’s apartments the whole time, some people wondered 
if my dark influence did not have something to do with the 
accident. Fortunately the idea did not spread, or I should 
probably have had a bad time of it. 

Owing to, the fact that so little wood 1s used in the construc- 
tion of houses in Tibet, there are comparatively few serious 
fires. Generally they are extinguished in the early stages 
either by buckets of water or else by buckets of the coarse 
soda which is found near many lake-beds. This seems to be 
the earliest-known form of fire-extinguisher. 

In the present instance it was only one wing of the Potala 
which was damaged, and this affected only the interior of a 
few rooms. These were not the apartments of the Dalai Lama, 
but of the special ecclesiastical school which | is housed in the 
great palace. 

It will be remembered that there are a tari number of monk 
officials inside the secular Government of Tibet, e.g. that there 
is a priest Governor as well as a lay Governor of each province. 
These monk officials are not chosen, for the most part, from 


) 


MODERNISING LHASA 335 


amongst the members of minor officials of the great monas- 
teries, but are priests who have reached a special preliminary 
training in the Tsetrung College. They enter the school as 
youngsters, and on graduation receive some minor appointment 
and then work up the official ladder. 

The lay officials have no such preliminary training-college. 
They usually learn to read and write the official language by 
means of private tutors, often monks, and then by influence 
are selected as assistants in the Tsikang (Finance or Treasury 
Office), where they learn to cook accounts in the time-honoured 
way, and are then appointed to real official posts. 

The Chinese introduced the Tibetans to a system of gradation 
in official rank, giving even to Tibetan officials the equivalent 
of Chinese stages in officialdom. Since the forced departure 
of the Chinese these gradations have fallen into a good deal of 
confusion, but there can still bé distinguished seven stages in 
the official ladder. 

The lowest stages are the seventh and sixth ranks, held by 
junior officials just starting on their career or without sufficient 
influence to secure promotion. The Dzongpéns, or Governors 
of the fifty ordinary provinces, are of the fifth rank; to the 
fourth rank belong the Governors of the three special provinces, 
the Depons, or generals in the army, and such special officials 
as the Kenchung in Gyangtsé, who has charge of negotiations 
with the Indian Government. 

Above this there is more confusion, as the Tibetans could 
not aspire to the highest Chinese ranks, but in the recognized 
hierarchy it may be said that those persons who have the 
titles of nobility known as Teiji and Dzasa, and Ta-Lama, are 
of the third rank, the shapés, or ministers, as well as the 
Lénchen, or Prime Minister, are of the second rank, while the 
Dalai Lama is himself of the first rank. 

One of my most interesting visitors was the head of the 
Mohammedan inhabitants of Lhasa. Although Lhasa is the 
centre of the intolerant Tibetan Buddhist monks, there are 
two mosques, or Mohammedan places of worship, in the city, 
though both of them are exclusively for the use of the few 
foreigners who are allowed to enter Lhasa. One of them is 
the Chinese mosque, for quite a number of the Chinese 
merchants who used to have the privilege of coming to Lhasa 


—% 


336 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


were followers of Islam, but since 1912 this congregation has 
fallen on evil days. 

The other mosque used by the Mohammedan traders from 
far-away Kashmir and Ladak, in the west, is still in a flourishing 
condition, and has, so my visitor told me, about two hundred 
members. These Moslems are all Indians, and though the 
Koran is read aloud in the original Arabic at the Friday 
services, this is practically unintelligible to most of the auditors, 
and so there follows a commentary in Urdu, the language 
spoken by most of the Indian Moslems. My visitor added, 
sadly, that many of the congregation were very slack and paid 
only scanty attention to the Islamic rules of diet and prescribed 
times of prayer, and that there was but little real learning in 
the Prophet’s lore among the Lhasa followers. 

I was much interested to learn something of the status of 
these Mohammedans and thé other foreigners who are per- 
mitted to reside in Lhasa. Tibet has always been very 
erratic and inconsistent in her long-contrived policy of 
exclusion. In spite of her vindictive refusal to allow strangers 
to pollute her soil, a certain number of foreigners have always 
found entry. Quite naturally, the Sikkimese and the Bhuta- 
nese have generally been permitted to go and come at will, for 
these people are really Tibetans living on the south side of the 
Himalayas. Mongolians, i.e. the inhabitants of Mongolia, 
have also entry, for the religion and institutions of Mongolia 
are the same as those of Tibet. But in addition to these, a 
limited number of Chinese, Nepalese, and Kashmiris escape 
the ban of exclusion. Before 1912 there were a number of 
Chinese officials and soldiers placed in Lhasa, and also a number 
of Chinese merchants, though the Chinese authorities them- 
selves, in deference to Tibetan prejudices, limited the number 
of Chinese who could come to Lhasa, and general immigration 
into Tibet was strictly prohibited. Since 1912 the Chinese 
officials have disappeared and with them most of the Chinese 
merchants, only a tiny number of special exceptions, mostly 
petty traders from the south of China, being permitted to stay, 
and for the Chinese in general Tibet is now as much the forbidden 
land as it is to the European. 

But there is still a considerable Nepalese community in 
Lhasa, and Nepal keeps a minister, or Consul-General, there. 


iia 
i a 


MODERNISING LHASA 337 


Most of, the skilled artisans, metal-workers, and craftsmen are 
Nepalese. They enjoy certain extra-territorial privileges, and 
in most cases, when in default, are tried by their Consul and 
not by the ordinary Tibetan Courts. 

I met only some four or five of the Nepalese while I was in 
Lhasz, but one of them proved very helpful to me. He was 
somewhat acquainted with the mysteries of photography, and 
while I was cooped up as a prisoner he went round the city and 
took several pictures for me. 

The Kashmiri Mohammedans constitute the only other group 
of foreigners in Lhasa. What isso strange is that, though these 
Kashmiris by long-established custom are permitted to come 


to the Sacred City, other Indians, whether Hindu or Moham- ' 


medan, arenot. A man from Kashmir is permitted to go from 
Lhasa to Darjeeling and return, but he is not allowed to bring 
back with him a cousin who may live in Darjeeling. 


Not only Indians, but all other Orientals—Japanese, Siamese, — 


Burmese, Ceylonese, etc.—as well as Europeans, are rigidly — 


excluded. 

These Kashmiris are British subjects, and my visitor, the 
leading man of the community, had been given the title of 
Khan Bahadur by the Indian Government, and as no European 
is permitted to reside in Lhasa, he is more or less the unofficial 
representative of the Indian Government there. All diplo- 
matic negotiations, however, pass not through his hands, but 
are conducted either by correspondence or through meetings 
of the Kenchung and the British Trade Agents, or the Political 
Officer of Sikkim, at Gyangtsé. 

Another mixed nationality presented itself a few days later 
in the person of a fat and jovial merchant who was a Sharpa 
(often pronounced “ Sherpa’’). The Sharpas are persons of 
Tibetan blood, speaking a Tibetan dialect, who reside in Nepal, 
in contrast to the Nepalese proper, who are a mixed people, 
but of predominating Indian blood and speaking an Indian 
language. The Sharpas live quite apart from the Nepalese, 
in little isolated valleys, thickly wooded, just south of the 
Himalayan Mountains. Formerly they owed allegiance only 
to Tibet, but of recent years the Nepalese Government has 
insisted upon its territorial rights and sends an official each year 
to the Sharpa villages to collect taxes. Apart from this, the 


¥ 


338 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Sharpas are left very much to themselves, and on local matters, 
according to my Sharpa friend, are practically autonomous. 
They are divided into nine groups each ruled over by 4 chief, 
an office which seems to be largely hereditary, though not 
necessarily so. The people are all Lamaistic Buddhists. In 
recent years a reformed, or yellow-hat, temple has been erected, 
but all the other temples belong to the old, unreformed red- 
hat group. As far as I could find out, the Sharpa territory 
has never been visited by any European, but of recent years 
a number of Sharpas have found their way to Darjeeling, 
where they have proved to make very useful and reliable 
servants. 

My Sharpa friend, who is now one of the leading merchants 
in Lhasa, paid me several visits, but I remember particularly 
well the first time he called. He had been in India, and thought 
he was well acquainted with the tastes of the ‘‘ sahibs,” so he 
brought as an introductory present (one must always take 
presents when one calls in Tibet) two bottles of brandy. It 
so happened that I was feeling particularly unwell when he 
came and did not feel equal to the strain of a long conversation, 
and so I sent my apologies and told “‘ Satan’”’ and Lhaten to 
entertain him for me in the next room. 

In order to help out the party I ordered that the two bottles 
of brandy which my new friend had brought be opened and 
served. I had forgotten the amiable disposition of “ Satan ” 
when under the influence of any drink stronger than chang, but 
I was soon to be reminded of it. 

For a while, of course, things went very well. Songs, jokes, 
and laughter followed in quick succession, but at the end of the 
first bottle ‘‘ Satan ”’ took exception to a witticism of the visitor 
and a violent quarrel began. At first it was a question of 
words, then it came to blows, and here the Sharpa, though none 
too sober himself, proved more than a match for “ Satan,” so 
‘““Satan”’ seized his sword and made a savage lunge at his 
adversary, inflicting a nasty-looking wound, though it proved 
to be nothing serious. Everyone now joined in the fray, trying 
to keep the two principals apart, but things seemed to go from 
bad to worse until, ill as I was, I staggered into the next room, 
and by slashing “Satan” in the face with my pony-whip 
brought him to his senses. 7 


4 ' MODERNISING LHASA 339 


The Sharpa was a very important man in Lhasa, and if he 
had been killed by “‘ Satan ” (as we thought for a time he was) 
there would have been very serious consequences, not only for 
“ Satan,’ but also for me. Even as it was, I was afraid our 
visitor would be mortally offended, so I gave him an elaborate 
apology and invited him to dinner the next day. Fortunately 
he was a very jovial soul, and thereafter he came frequently 
and we became fast friends. 

I was’afraid to dismiss “‘ Satan” for fear he might cause 
trouble with the hostile elements in Lhasa, and incite them toa 
further attack against me. But I gave him a long harangue 
and insisted upon his finding quarters elsewhere, as I could not 
have Sonam’s apartment upset by his drunken sprees. The 
Lhasa crowd had now somewhat abated, and he found no great 
difficulty in securing accommodation with a young and rather 
attractive grass-widow. 

Here a romance of true Tibetan fashion developed. “‘ Satan ”’ 
already shared a wife in Darjeeling with another priest, but he 
now determined to leave the way of polyandry for that of mono- 
gamy. He wrote a letter to the Darjeeling woman announcing 
that he gave up all claims on her—this was his idea of a divorce 
—and immediately constituted himself the spouse of the young 
lady in Lhasa, who, in return for his affections, gave him free 
board and lodgings—though he continued to draw living- 
allowance from me. The union was without benefit of clergy, 
for “ Satan ’”’ was a priest, and in Tibet a little loose living on 
the part of the priests is more excusable than a legal wife. He 
tried to keep all knowledge of the affair away from me, though 
of course I heard all about it, but as both parties were satisfied, 
I felt that it was none of my business. I was glad to hear, 
however, that the lady was said to be more than his equal in 
temper and vindictiveness, 

There can be no doubt that the moral life of Tibet is of a 
low order. This has nothing to do with polyandry, for both ° 
polygamy and polyandry can be quite in keeping with a strict 
moral code; but in urban Tibet, particularly in Lhasa, even 
among the upper classes, there is a good deal of moral laxness, 
both amongst the men and women. A great many of the Lhasa 
women are prostitutes, and in all lay circles adultery is regarded 
as a minor offence. Curiously enough, the real cause of this is, 


340 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE : 


I think, the ideal of absolute celibacy instilled by the Church. 
Theoretically the only true moral life is a life of absolute 
sexual abstinence, and if a person is unable to live up to this 
standard it makes little difference what he or she does, “it is 
as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb.” 

On the evening of March 13, after the great Maitreya feStival, 
the monks began to leave Lhasa in great numbers. The two 
Lords of Misrule handed their authority back to the ordinary 
civil officials. Large numbers of pilgrims returned: to their 
native hearths, and by the next day the population of Lhasa 
had sunk back to its normal size. After the huge crowds to 
which I was accustomed, it seemed almost deserted. 

With the departure of the monks most of the danger from 
attack was gone and my prisonership was relaxed. Without 
waiting for formal permission to do so, I began to leave the 
courtyard and to wander around the city and its environs, 
though always, of course, in Tibetan clothes and with my face 
muffled up so as not to attract too much attention. Very 
refreshing it was to feel once more at liberty. 

Several times I went around the great Outer Circle, a 
parallel to the Inner Circle. This Outer Circle is a pathway 
which encircles the whole of the city of Lhasa, as well as the 
College of Medicine and the Potala, and is, of course, frequently 
circumambulated by pilgrims. Near the eastern side of the 
Outer Circle are to be seen the curious huts made of horns and 
mud in which are housed the ruffian outcasts of the city, who, 
in addition to begging and pilfering, are the scavengers and 
the corpse-cutters of the city. In former years they were 
very turbulent and caused the city authorities a great deal of 
trouble, but now the strong measures of Tsarong, backed by 
his army, have very considerably checked their power. 

During my numerous excursions nearly all the great sights 
in and around Lhasa were seen and re-seen. The cathedral, 
the four /ings, Ramoche, Norbu Linga (the private palace of the 
Dalai Lama, about a mile west of the Potala), and the home 
of the Lhasa oracle, a magnificent building, or rather group of 
buildings, lying not far away from Drepung. 

But quite as interesting to see and to visit as these places 
were the stalls and shops constituting the Lhasa market, 
which lay around the Inner Circle and on the adjoining streets. 


Vv 


; MODERNISING LHASA 341 


The stalls were even more numerous than the shops. Most 
of these stalls had umbrellas or awnings over them to protect 
the traders and their customers from the fierce heat of the 
midday sun. It was interesting to note the large number of 
stalls kept by women, for women play a large part not only 
in the social but also the economic life of the country. Some 
of the smaller articles were sold at fixed prices, but for the more 
valuable articles there was always interminable bargaining 
and haggling before anything could be sold. 

In the larger shops, many of them kept by Nepalese or 
Kashmiri merchants, were sold woollen and silken clothes, 
and a little—a very little—cotton. The wool, of course, came 
from Tibet, while most of the silk came from China. People 
never buy their clothes ready-made in Tibet, but procure the 
material and then have their private tailors make them up. 
Hats of all shapes, designs, afid colours, there were. Apart 
from the officials, the Tibetans never seem to have hit upon a 
national head-dress. The women, of course, never use any 
hats whatever, owing to the elaborate partuk, or head-decora- 
tion, which they wear, but in recent years the men have taken 
to wearing European felt hats, which look very much out of 
place with the rest of their outfit. 

Other shops housed the sellers of precious stones, chiefly 
coral and turquoise, for the Tibetans prize these above every- 
thing else, and good specimens fetch fabulous prices. 

Many of the stalls were devoted to religious emblems— 
prayer-wheels, bells, rosaries, little portable charm-boxes 
containing images, butter-lamps, and offering-bowls; other 
stalls sold only tea-bowls, mostly of wood, and at a few chop- 
sticks were procurable, for though the peasants eat with their 
fingers, the nobility have learned the use of chopsticks from the 
Chinese; but knives and forks I saw none, though many 
steel daggers and short swords were in evidence. 

Food stuffs were a very important item of merchandise, and 
the sellers of brick-tea of various qualities, but nearly all 
imported from China, did a roaring business. 

Tibet’s boycott of foreign people does not apply to foreign 
goods, and quite a number of articles were on sale which had 
been brought back from Kalimpong. These included scissors, 
cheap looking-glasses (a great favourite with the peasant- 


342 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE | 


women from the country, many of whom had never gazed on 
their own beauty before), matches, candles, and an occasional 
box of highly-perfumed soap. ‘ 

The matches and candles have made a real conquest of 
Lhasa, as they are so much more convenient than their respec- 
tive Tibetan prototypes, tinder-box and butter-lamp.* The 
presence of the soap was very surprising considering the known 
filthiness of the Tibetan, but I found that very little of it is 
used for washing purposes. The peasants like to smear it .on 
their bodies as an additional precaution against the cold and 
because of its pleasant smell. I even heard of cases where 
this perfumed soap was placed on family altars as a cheap and 
more lasting substitute for incense. 

The international trade of Tibet is, of course, very small. 
Miscellaneous foodstuffs (chiefly tea), materials for clothing 
(chiefly silk and hats), and vdrious metals and manufactures 
from metals, such as copper for the Mint, knives, and other 
tools, etc., form the principal imports. 

The principal export is wool, followed at a great distance by 
furs and by musk—the musk-deer of Eastern Tibet are very 
famous—a certain amount of borax from the lake-beds also 
finds its way down to India, chiefly through Nepal, while 
quite a number of mules, ponies, sheep, and goats are also 
sent to foreign markets. 

There are three main trade-routes connecting Lhasa with the 
outside world: one goes to Peking in China, passing through 
Tachienlu, though this route, formerly the one most used, is 
largely blocked owing to the hostilities which exist between 
Tibet and China. The second route goes from Lhasa through 
Shigatsé to distant Ladak and Kashmir. At one time this was 
of great importance, but is less so now, owing to the great dis- 
tance to be covered. The third, and now the greatest, trade- 
route is that which runs from Lhasa through Gyangtsé, Pari, 
Yatung, and the Chumbi Valley to Kalimpong. This seems 
to be the line along which Tibet’s trade-stream now seems to 
flow, though I am convinced that a much more natural outlet 
into India would be from Kampa Dzong down the Tista Valley. 
This would do away with the terribly-steep ascent and descent 
of the Jelap Pass, for along the Tista Valley route a cart, and 
even motor, road could easily be made. 





’ 


MODERNISING LHASA 343 


So easy, in fact, is the ascent that it should prove no insuper- 
able difficulty even to the railroad builder, and certainly, once 
arrived at the Tibetan plateau, the building of a railroad across 
the plains would be a comparatively easy matter. But it is 
doubtful if any such project will be carried out for many years 
to come. Quite apart from the continued desire of the people 
for rigid isolation, it is doubtful whether the present resources of 
Tibet would warrant the expense. Tibet can never be a great 
agricultural country, and though its wool and livestock trade 
could be enormously increased under favourable conditions, 
these alone would hardly excite the interest of the railroad 
builder. 

Finally comes the question of Tibet’s mineral resources. All 


_ adequate development of these has been greatly hindered by the 


religious superstitions of the monks, who claim that to delve 
into the earth is to disturb the subterranean demons and de- 
stroy the crops and the people. In spite of this, however, the 
Tibetans themselves have opened up a number of gold-mines, 
chiefly placer mining, which can be operated without undue 
damage to the prejudice against digging. Some of these gold- 
mines have been operating for the last century or two, though, 
of course, on a small scale and with very crude and rough 
methods. Many of the mines have proved paying propositions, 
but as yet no great mother-lode of gold has been discovered. 

Tibet is full of iron ore, and this will probably be developed 
in the future. No great deposits of coal are known to exist, 
but many persons claim that great oil-wells are hidden under 
some of the plains. This claim is largely due to reasoning by 
analogy, because no borings have as yet been made. 

Another great source of interest to me, in the days following 
my release, was to go out to the Settam Plain and watch the 
soldiers of the new army hard at work at their training and 
drilling. The new army, of which mention has already been 
made, is entirely the result of the independence which Tibet 
achieved in 1912. The Dalai Lama was insistent that a strong 
army be organized to maintain the newly-won independence 
and also to secure internal order. The Younghusband Expedi- 
tion taught him the immense superiority of European 


tactics and equipment ; consequently, in the creation of the 


new Tibetan corps, the British Army served as the model. 


> 


344 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


Theoretically every family with more than one son «an be 
called upon to send one to serve in the army, but this system 
is not yet enforced, owing to lack of equipment, money, 
and accommodation, and up to the present time the soldiers 
form a special professional class, increasing every es in 
numbers. 

There are already engineering, transport, cavalry, and 
artillery units, though the artillery has as yet only some light 
mountain-guns. The greatest attention, however, has been 
paid to the infantry. 

The infantry is armed with Lee-Enfield long rifles and short 
bayonets, and the uniform and equipment resemble those of the 
British—khaki cap, tunic, trousers and puttees, with the 
exception that some battalions wear a sort of turban instead 
of the service cap. In the winter fur caps are issued. Regi- 
mental badges are being adoptéd after the British style, but of 
Tibetan design. Battalions are distinguished by numbers 
(Tibetan numerals) cut out of coloured cloth and sewn on 
the sleeves just below~the shoulder-straps. N.C.O.s are 
distinguished by strips on the sleeve after the British fashion. 
Officers wear the British-pattern tunic with collar and tie, Sam 
Browne belt, breeches and puttees, leggings, or field-boots. 
Rank is indicated by badges on the shoulder-straps. 

Some of the battalions have bands which play, as we have 
seen, British tunes, The performance of at least some of these 
was very creditable. 

The organization of the infantry battalions is that of four 
double companies with sixteen platoons, and the officers and 
N.C.O.s are correspondingly distributed. 

Machine-gunnery is being practised, and the Lewis-gun has 
been adopted, and this, on account of its portability, is well 
adapted to the country. 

The Tibetan troops parade well and seem to be keen on their 
work, which includes everything from squad drill to manoeuvres 
across the fields, musketry, and signalling with flags and 
heliograph. Altogether they provide evidence of excellent 
material for the shaping of a most formidable force whichimay 
well give a good account of itself should future necessityfarise. 

The weakest points in the service, as far as I could see, were 
the officers. They were all recruited from amongst the rather 


we Te 5 ee, ee 


’ 


MODERNISING LHASA 345 


degenetate Lhasa nobility, few of whom seemed to possess 
ordinary physical courage. 

Some of the guns and uniforms were imported direct from 
India, while others were manufactured in Lhasa in exact 


‘imitation of the European models. Those things which were 


impotted from India were secured with the knowledge and 
consent of the Indian Government. 

The Tibetan Army has also learned much of its drill from 
English commissioned and Indian non-commissioned officers. 
None of these, of course, has been allowed to come to Lhasa. 
But it will be remembered that the British keep a military 
outpost at Gyangtsé, and the Tibetan Government has arranged 
to station various groups of her soldiers in Gyangtsé in order 
that they might see and copy the English tactics. Of recent 
years an arrangement has been come to whereby the British 
officers are allowed to give the Tibetan soldiers direct courses 
of instructions. When one group of soldiers has been fairly 
well trained, it is brought back to Lhasa and a fresh batch 
sent down to Gyangtsé. 

Considering the great indebtedness in which Tibet stands to 
the British in this respect, it is surprising that Lhasa has not 
become more open to the British. It will be remembered 
that, when our first party came to Gyangtsé and asked for 
permission to proceed to Lhasa, they had come as a body 
recognized, even though not directly supported, by the 
British-Indian Government. Their object in wanting to pay 
a visit to Lhasa was an entirely friendly one—and yet a 
decisive refusal was given them. My own subsequent secret 
journey through Tibet was, of course, entirely and absolutely 
a private venture, and was undertaken without the sanction or 
even the knowledge of the Indian Government. 

Of great interest, however, is the attitude of the British 
Government towards the Governments of China and Tibet. 
England and China are on friendly terms. China has never 
recognized the independence of Tibet and refuses to do so, and 
will, as soon as military conditions permit, once more invade 
the country. It is largely for this reason that Tibet is preparing 
her new army. 

Officially England is entirely neutral on the dispute between 
China and Tibet. Probably it would be officially declared 


346 TO LHASA IN DISGUISE 


that England would like to see an autonomous Tibet under . 
the technical suzerainty of China, and undoubtedly many 
officials in the Diplomatic Service of England have very pro- 
Chinese sympathies in the matter; but certainly the India 
Office, while maintaining its neutrality, manages to make it a 
very benevolent neutrality in favour of Tibet. The Indian 
Government would probably like to see Tibet an independent 
buffer state, not entirely devoid of British sympathies and 
influence, and so, while the Indian Government refuses to 
recognize the Dalai Lama’s claim of independence from China, 
it has placed no difficulties in the way of allowing the Dalai 
Lama so to increase his power and his fighting forces that 
China will be unable to enforce her claim over Tibet. 
Certainly diplomacy is a very marvellous affair, and as the 
result of diplomacy we are likely to see some very interesting 
developments in Asia in the next few years. 

Almost every day of my long stay in Lhasa brought forth 
some new item of interest, but I was already looking forward 
to the time when I could return to India on my way back to 
England. My leave of absence had long since expired, urgent 
business called me back, and my health continued to be very 
unsatisfactory, and so at last I asked the Kashak for permission 
to depart. 

I am sure that most of the Tibetan officials were very glad 
to get rid of so troublesome a visitor, but a large number of 
details cropped up which prevented my leaving, and in the 
end I had to bring a good deal of pressure to bear before the 
Government would give me my official papers which would 
_ allow me to make my way back to India in safety. 

But in the end, not only was I given the necessary papers, 
but I was also supplied with transport animals to take the 
place of my own animals which had died, and was given 
permits which allowed me to stay at all Government rest- 
houses en voute. Finally I was given an armed escort, probably 
to safeguard against further escapades, but also to see that no 
attack was made on me by a fanatic. 

Eventually, March 24 was chosen as the day of departure, 
and on the morning of that day a number of my new-found 
friends gathered to see me off and to load me down with 
parting presents. Long and elaborate farewells took up 


( 


=] 


MODERNISING LHASA 347 


the whole morning, and it was afternoon before I could 
get off. 

For the first few days the road coincided with that over 
which I had come to Lhasa, but after reaching Yasé I continued 
along the highway to Gyangtsé, reaching that city on Good 
Friday and leaving on Easter, Aprilr. Thereafter I went over 
the old Gyangtsé—Pari route down to the Chumbi Valley, and 
at Yatung (reached April 7, for I was travelling double stages) 
I met my old friend Mr. MacDonald, the Trade Agent, who 
was as jovial and hospitable as ever. How delightful it was 
to see known faces once more! I also met there two charming 
English men, Dr. Bishop and Mr. Easton, of Calcutta, who had 
had special permission to come as far as Yatung, and with 
them I travelled back to India. 

A very merry party we made of it. On the 16th of April 
we arrived in Kalimpong, and I was back in British India at 
last. That same day I went on to Peshok to be the guest of 
Major Bailey, the Political Officer in Sikkim. We had a 
number of things to talk over, as I was sorry to find that my 
little escapade had quite unintentionally caused the Indian 
Government a good deal of trouble; but business matters 
having been settled, Major Bailey once more became the 
charming and cultured host, and amused the party that night 
by tales of his own most interesting adventures. 

The next day (April 17) was a most memorable one, because 
it was then that I reached Darjeeling and rejoined my good 
friends Knight, Ellam, and Fletcher. 

The Tibetan adventure was at last at an end, but I had still 
with me vivid memories of the Sacred City, the far-off and 
Forbidden Abode of the Gods, to which in the end I had 
penetrated in spite of every obstacle, and these memories were 
worth all the terrible hardships which the journey had cost. 


‘ 


THE END 





INDEX 


Alcoholic liquor in Tibet, 177, 191 
Antelopes, 102-103 

Army of Tibet, 15, 290-291, 318-319 
— — —, organisation of, 343-345 


Bailey, Major I. M., 38, 39-41, 347 

Bell, Sir Charles, 15, 40 

Bhutan, customs of, 43 

—, history of, 38-39 

Bodhisattva, A, 54 

Brahmaputra River, 61, 149, 200, 202 

Buddhism, customs in connection 
with, 127-128, 165-166, 173-178, 
282-283 

—, introduction into Tibet, 125 

—, origin of, 285 

—, sects of, 227, 250 

Burial customs, 178-179 

Burton, Sir Francis, 247 

Butter, use of, 127-128 


Cabinet, the Tibetan, 299-302 

Caravans, 145, I7I 

Castles of Tibet, 114-117 

Chaksam ferry, the, 240, 241-242 

Champela, 328 

China, suzerainty of, in Tibet, 15, 52, 
103, 178, 251, 308, 331-332 

Chumbi, Monastery of, 43 

—, Oracle of, 43, 44 

—, Valley of, 20, 27, 35, 36, 37 

Chumolhari, Mount, 46 

Chusul, 243-244 

Class-distinction in Tibet, 204-205 

Coinage, Tibetan, I11, 112, 333 

Curfew in Lhasa, 273 


Dak-bungalows, 30 

Dalai Lama, 14, 23, 235, 289 

— —, characteristics, 306-307 

—-—, history of, 307-310 

—-—, popular belief in omnipo- 
tence of, 239 

——, status of, 173, 330-332 

Darjeeling, 56 

—, description of, 21 

Dederich, William, 7, 18 

Devil-dancing, 195 

** Diogenes,”’ 59, 90 

Dogs in Tibet, 139 

Drepung, Monastery of, 251-252, 255, 
267, 288-289 

—, monks of, 287-289 

Dress in Tibet. See Tibet 


' Dropas, the, 133-136, 156 


Ellam, Captain J. E., 19, 55 


Firearms in Tibet. See Tibet 
Fletcher, Frederic, 19, 55 


Ganden, Monastery of, 252, 325 
Gantok, 24, 27, 3I 

Gelongs, the, 166 

Graham, Dr., 27 

Gyangtsé, 20 

—, description of, 49 

—, Kenchung of, 51, 52 


Harcourt, William, 19, 43, 55 

Hedin, Sven, 15 

Himalayas, the climate of, 93, 118- 
119 


349 


co] 


350 INDEX 


Jelap Pass, the, 27, 56 — 


Kalimpong, 27 

Kampa Dzong, arrival at, 112, 126 
— —, status of, 106 
Kanchendzonga, Mount, 66 
Knight, George, 18, 55 

Kyipup, 285-287 

Kyi River, 149, 249 


Lachen, 80 
Laden La, 23 
Lamas, 166 
Lama, Dalai. 
—, Trashi. 
—, Trodampa. 
Language of Tibet. 
La-pas, the, 80 
Leeches in Tibet, 28, 76-77 
Lepchas, the, 34, 69, 99 
LHASA, 267-270 

Cathedral, 269, 296-300 

Curfew of, 273 

Difficulty of access to, 14 

Lama of. See Dalai Lama 

Legal administration, 294—296 

Monasteries of, 251-252 

New Year festival rites, 289-291, 

317-320 

Plain of, 125 

Position of, 149 

Postal system, 327 

Pulpit in, 280 
Lhaten, 25, 108, 168, 214-215, 247 


See Dalai Lama 
See Trashi Lama 
See Trodampa Lama 
See Tibet 


Manjitar, 62 
Macdonald, Trade Agent, 37, 347 
McGoveErRN, Dr. W. MONTGOMERY: 
Arrives at Darjeeling, 20 
— — Gantok, 31 
— — Gyangtsé, 49 
— — Kampa Dzong, 112 
— — Lhasa, 257 
— — Shigatsé, 176 
Attacked by leeches, 76-77 
Before the Cabinet, 296, 301-304 
ae Bs magistrates, 294-295 


McGovern, Dr. W. M.—cottinued : 
Departs from Darjeeling, 60 
— on first expedition, 25, 60 
— for home, 346 
Disguised as a Sikkimese servant, 
I100—IOI 
First night in a rest-house, 1§3-158 
Interviews the Dalai Lama, 305-— 
310 
Secretary of State, 274-279, 290- 
293 
Lost in the snow, 90-91 
Meets Political Officer, 37-38 
— the Kenchung, 52 
Mobbed by monks, 309-312 
Nearly betrays himself, . 246-247 
Permission to proceed refused, 55 
Preparations for second attempt, 
57-60 
Presence in Tibet discovered, 223 
Rearward march, 87 
Renewed attempt to proceed, 89 
Return to Darjeeling, 56 
Reveals his identity, 263 
Semi-disguise adopted, 73 
Stopped by a snow-storm, 85-86 
Visit to Maharajah of Sikkim, 31 
— — Monastery of Gyangtsé, 53 
— — Oracle of Chumbi, 43-44 
Maharajah of Sikkim. See Sikkim 
Marriage in Tibet. See Tibet 
Missionaries, 27 
Mohammedanism in Tibet. See Tibet 
Monasteries, 14, 43, 53, 165-167, 194, 
207—208, 226-227, 268-269 
—, organization of, 197 
— of Chumbi, 43 
— of Sakya, 124 
— of Trashilhumpo, 174 
-— of Gyangtsé, 53 
Mondron, 286-287 
Monks, 165-166, 193-195, 324-326 
Mountain sickness, 84 


Mythology of Tibet, 98-99, 226-227, 


232, 319-320 


Namtsé, 65 
National Assembly of Tibet, 303-304 


. 
4 
\ 
é 





INDEX 


Natu Pats, 35 

Navigation in Tibet, 199-200 
Nepalese in Sikkim. See Sikkim 
— — Lhasa, 337 

Nomads of Tibet, 133-136, 216 
Nuns, Tibetan, 241 

Nyang River, 149 


Oracle of Chumbi, the, 43-44 


Pari, 44-45 

Parliament, Tibetan, 303-304 

Pedang, Monastery of, 74 

Polyandry, 42, 183-184 

Polygamy, 136, 183-184 

Potala, the, 14, 254, 256-257, 305, 
334 

Pryde-Hughes, J. E., 8 


Rangit River, 62 

Red Idol Gorge, 48 

Reincarnation in Tibetan religion, 32, 
188-189, 307 

Rest-houses, 153-156, 192 

— —, Official, 29, 30, 31 

Ringpo, 207 

Rockhill, W. W., 15, 98 


Sakya, Monastery of, 124-125 
Salt, 147 
“Satan,” 58, 70-71, 83, 92, 120-121, 
142-143, 177, 186, 195, 338-339 
Sera, Monastery of, 252, 267 
Sharpas, the, 337-338 
Shigatsé, 149, 176 
—,Lamaof. See Trashi Lama 
SIKKIM, 21, 24, 27 
Constitution of, 33-34 
History of, 33-34 
Maharajah of, 24, 31-33, 34 
Nepalese, predominance of, 31, 34, 
74, 75 
_ Status of, 27, 33 
Sikkimese, the, 21, 34, 72 
——, privilege of entry into Tibet, 
59 
Snow-blindness, 87, 101 
Snow-leopard, the, 90, 92 


351 


Sonam, 263-266 

Superstitions, Tibetan, 24-25, 94, 97, 
98-99, 220, 236-237, 284 

Swords, Tibetan, 145 

Syce, the, 58, 109 


Taxation in Tibet. 
Tea, 146 
—, method of preparation, 161 
—, mode of drinking, 182 
Temple of Soaring Meditation, 226~ 
227 
TIBET, 13, 15, 16 
Architecture, 105, 122-123, 179- 
180 
Burial customs, 178-179 
Cabinet, 299-302 
Climate, 93-94, 105, 150-151, 189— 
190 
Coinage, IlI-II2, 133 
Deserts, 133 
Dialects, 215-217 
Divorce, 184-185 
Dress, 135, 169, 174, 214-215, 291 
Fauna, 225-226, 232-233 
Finance, 332-334 
Firearms, 145 
Food, 75, 161, 315-317 
Fuel, 130 
Government, II15-II7, 334-335 
Highways, 30 
History, 176, 281, 299 
Lakes, 230-232 
Language, 140, I90-I9QI, 206, 215— 
Zig7 
Literature, 171-172, 187-188, 320— 
322 
Marriage, 183-184, 219, 244-246 
Medicine, 313-315 
Mohammedanism, 335-336 
Morals, 339-340 
National Assembly, 303-304 
Natural regions, 149-152 
— resources, 343 
Nomads, 133-136 
Personal habits of Tibetans, 104, 
132, 135, 156, 157 
Politics, 309-310 


See Tibet 


2 


(352 


TrBetT—continued : 
Political divisions, 176 
Polyandry, 42, 183-184 
Polygamy, 136, 183-184 
Postal system, 327-328 
Social customs, 26, 43, 105, II0, 
127, 155-156, 157, 173, 201, 336 
Taxation, 221, 332-333 
Trade, 342-343 
Transport, 171 
Tista River, 67, 68, 80, 94 
LADY, S22; 46, 37 
Tongsa Dénlop, 39 
Trashi Lama, 23 


INDEX 


€ 


Trashi Lama, status of, 176{ 330-332 

Trashilhumpo, Monastery of, 176— 
177, 178 ( 

Tsarong Shapé, 274-279, 290-293, 
333 


Wool in Tibet, 146, 234 \ 

Yak, the, 80, 94, 127, 129, 137, 138 

Yamdro Lake, 225, 230-231 

Yatung, 20, 40, 42, 43 

Younghusband: Expedition, the, 36, 
49-51, 107, 116, 285, 330 

Younghusband, Sir Francis, 15, 105 


Printed by 


PURNELL AND SONS 
Pautton, ENGLAND 








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